The Princess of Mirkwood
by Ripper101
Summary: Sequel to 'Curse of the House of Elrond'. Confrontations must occur, and the shocking secret of the Lord of Imladris is therefore brought into the open.
1. 1

Author's Note: I couldn't resist! This is the sequel, as the summary says, to 'Curse of the House of Elrond'. Therefore, this still continues with the themes of Slash and Mpreg. Elrond and child have just returned to Imladris and they have guests who want to meet the newest Peredhil.  
  
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"Where is the child?"  
  
Elrond contemplated saying he had dropped her out of the window, but Bronwe chose that time to cry at the top of her lungs. He winced and stood up, steadying himself with a discreet hand on his desk. Thranduil reluctantly made a silent offer to help, but Elrond waved him away impatiently.  
  
He walked into the other room where she was being kept and took her away from the flustered wet nurse. He made a mental note to speak with her about her habit of panicking every time the baby cried. At this rate, she'd end up in the Halls of Healing before the month was out.  
  
"Hush, iel nin," he whispered, rocking her carefully to sooth her cries, "Your grandfather will not appreciate such a sight of you. Come now. Nothing is so bad you need cry, is it? Hmmm?"  
  
The child hiccupped and blinked blue eyes up at him. There was not a tear to be seen, much to Elrond's amusement. He waited another minute more, simply because he wanted to hold her, and then took her into his study. The wet nurse collapsed into her seat with a relieved sigh.  
  
"Aha! The miracle child," Thranduil exclaimed, standing to take the child from the still fragile half-elf. "Sit, sit, Lord Elrond! Before you fall and my son blames me for it."  
  
Elrond obligingly sat and hid a smile.  
  
The golden-haired King of Mirkwood, held the child for a minute, looking from her to her father. "She has your hair," he grumbled.  
  
"Yes," Elrond agreed, deliberately closing his ears to the note of disapproval, "And Legolas' eyes."  
  
Thranduil 'hmmf'-ed deep in his throat and bounced the child on his arm. The corners of his mouth titled in a surprising smile as she gurgled up at him. For the most part she was quiet, and Legolas was worried sick because she had yet to shed a tear. But Elrond raised an eyebrow as the hitherto cold King of Mirkwood fell in love in an instant.  
  
"She likes you," he observed softly, "She normally does not acknowledge those she is unfamiliar with."  
  
"I suppose. It is probably because I remind her of her Ada."  
  
Elrond took great acceptation to the theory that his daughter was so short- sighted. He opened his mouth to say something harsh and fitting when a hand landed on his shoulder. He started and stared behind to find Erestor there. The Steward gave him a warning look and he subsided, closing his mouth over the bitter words he had meant to utter.  
  
"Ah, my Lord Steward," Thranduil said smoothly, "What think you of my granddaughter?"  
  
Erestor smiled and looked to the child, who waved an ineffectual fist at him in greeting. "She is delightful," he answered truthfully.  
  
"Fair words, Lord Erestor. It is no wonder Lord Elrond appoints you Chief Adviser; your skill with diplomacy must be a great relief to him."  
  
Elrond sighed ruefully. So the insults were not going to stop, were they? But something else was interesting him at the moment, so he discarded his morbid reflections to observe the two cooing over his Bronwe. That Bronwe was charming was an understatement; she had already caught the hearts of her siblings and her parents and was now establishing her supremacy over the rest of the household with a dexterous little hand.  
  
And why, he questioned himself silently, was Thranduil standing quite so close to his oh-so diplomatic Chief Adviser? Surely the room was big enough to eradicate that necessity?  
  
Erestor, on the other hand, seemed not to notice. He smiled and commented in his typically dry tones, looking as aloof and reserved as he always did, making no move to do more than reply to Thranduil's comments and questions. The Lord of Imladris had seen this smooth act many times before when visiting dignitaries needed to be pampered into a good humour.  
  
A light went on, grey eyes narrowed in sudden thought and then Elrond Half- Elven sat back and smirked gently up at the ceiling. Oh, how he had missed the peace and beauty of his Imladris! And clearly he was also overjoyed to return to the numerous little goings-on that occurred behind the flower encrusted public view.  
  
"My Lord?" broke into his thoughts just as he began to drift away on a sunbeam.  
  
"Yes?" he asked, straightening up and looking to Erestor with an innocent face.  
  
Erestor knew that face and was instantly suspicious. "I asked if I could speak to you in private for a few minutes."  
  
"Of course," Elrond agreed sweetly, struggling back to his feet and wincing as the stitches pulled rather brutally. He hurriedly sat back down. "Perhaps, King Thranduil, you would prefer to take Bronwe out for a walk?"  
  
The King shrugged. "As you prefer, Lord Elrond. I will bring her back in one hour."  
  
"Thank you." They waited until Thranduil had left before Elrond gestures Erestor to take a seat. It was most provoking but none of his old friends would sit until he asked them to; and that was after centuries of helping him govern this valley! "Was there something wrong?"  
  
"Estel has returned and brings news of trolls in the western provinces."  
  
"But they have been there for years," Elrond frowned, "Unless we were to start warring with them, there is nothing much we can do about that."  
  
"Yes, Elrond, but they are not containing themselves in the western provinces as before. Estel says a village had been attacked."  
  
Ah yes... what had he been saying about the peace of Imladris again? "Tell Glorfindel and ask him to return here to discuss sending guards to drive them back to their caves. And ask Estel to return with you as well; I need to question him further. Or no! Send Aragorn and Glorfindel and you, if you please, can keep Thranduil occupied and away from me."  
  
"Very well, if you think it necessary. I can't think why, but... oh, and Elrond? The young Prince will not be happy to know you are working again," Erestor smiled, rising gracefully in his plain black robes, "I would exaggerate the danger if I were you."  
  
"No, you would not," Elrond retorted, "because then the young Prince would assign himself to the guards who are to go and will likely get himself hit in the head and killed if you did. And do not think to tease me because then I will stand and- and... do something drastic to you."  
  
"And break the stitches?" Erestor raised a mock severe eyebrow, "That would be dangerous indeed! For not only would Legolas be angered, but Elladan and Elrohir will tie you to a bed and Arwen will scold. And I shudder to imagine Glorfindel's reaction. And, of course, there's your healer who has warned you thrice this week of doing exactly that and..."  
  
"Erestor?"  
  
"Yes, my Lord?"  
  
"You are very close to being banished."  
  
"Of course, my Lord. Should I tell Glorfindel?"  
  
"Yes! And Aragorn!"  
  
"Yes, my Lord. And King Thranduil?"  
  
"Erestor! We've been over this!"  
  
"I apologize, my Lord. It was the shock of being banished."  
  
Elrond collapsed into his chair and contemplated screaming or crying. Only Erestor, he despaired, and the steward could just wait until he was strong enough to do something about it! 


	2. 2

Author's Note: For those who did not know, 'bronwe' means 'faith'. I figured it would be fitting for my new little character. Oh, and for those who might wince at all my little mess-ups, I don't know what an elvish formal greeting would look like. So I simply made it as I envisioned it.   
  
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"My Lord, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have been sighted. They will be here in a few minutes."  
  
Elrond looked up from the backlogged reports he was still trying to finish and sighed tiredly. It was all very well returning home, but he wished sometimes that he had gone instead to Mirkwood or Lothlorien for a few months. He still felt so very weak and coming back to Imladris meant he could not, in all conscience, shirk the work that awaited him.   
  
"My Lord?"  
  
He nodded and stood, cradling the still stinging cut in his midsection. It was healed enough that he could walk but it still hurt! "Erestor, could you?"  
  
"Of course, my Lord," Erestor said smoothly, offering his shoulder to be leaned on.  
  
Elrond groaned in frustration at not even being able to walk under his own steam. But though he grumbled under his breath and shook his dark head, the way to the entrance of his house continued to be long, tiresome and frankly comparable to a long trek to Mordor!   
  
"Refrain from lecturing yourself about seeking help, Elrond," Erestor warned, "Or I will drop you where you stand! You know it only makes you feel worse, and truly there is no shame in it."  
  
"I have had worse wounds and I have fought battles before this," Elrond hissed, keeping his voice down as they neared the public places of the Last Homely House, "Others have been fatally wounded and recovered in less time. Why am I alone so weak?"  
  
"You have given birth in the back of a wagon in a forest only three weeks ago! Did you expect to not feel the consequences?" Oh, but Erestor was tired of this! Not only had he had this conversation just the day before, but he had had many like it only a few millennia ago. "You cannot expect to be as strong as before in such a short time."  
  
"I cannot think why. Women do it every day!"  
  
"And you, mellon nin, are hardly a woman. That I have ascertained while sharing a tent with you on a battlefield! Elrond, I am happy to help and you know you are this weak only because of the torment you have suffered while you were most vulnerable. No one blames you for it, and no one thinks less of you either."  
  
Elrond stayed silent this time, knowing Erestor was right but unable to help the way he felt. Actually having the child had been bad enough; having her in such a thoroughly dramatic way and ending up as he had was the worst shock to him. And now to confront the understandably cold eyes of those who would judge him as well as those responsible... he clenched his jaw over the bitter taste of mingled apprehension and anger.   
  
Elladan and Elrohir were already in attendance, their faces uncertain and moody as they waited in formal robes. Arwen had schooled her features to a pretty mask of bland welcome. And Elrond could sympathize with that; his children no longer knew how to address those they had thought of as their grandparents. He wished this hadn't happened but he could only hope they would weather this turmoil.   
  
"Elrond, they are here," Glorfindel whispered.   
  
Elrond nodded again and tore his eyes from his children's faces. Bronwe was asleep and so was excluded from the welcome party. Everyone preferred it that way, not willing to parade her until they were sure of her treatment. And, Elrond added to himself bitterly, there was no one to blame for this mess but himself.   
  
"Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel," he greeted, walking forward with a slow and careful step. "Mae govannen and welcome to Imladris."  
  
"Mae govannen, Lord Elrond," Lord Celeborn returned, bowing slightly to his host, "May the Valar bless you and your house."  
  
Lady Galadriel was a little less formal than her husband, taking the Elf Lord's hand and smiling warmly up at him. "Mae govannen, Elrond. You are none the worse for your ordeal?"  
  
He smiled back ruefully. "Nothing that will not mend, my Lady. I owe you both much thanks for your assistance."  
  
Glorfindel eased a careful hand under the Lord of Imladris' elbow as he stumbled. Celeborn took the other arm with a concerned frown. "I am certain you should at least be sitting, Elrond. Why are you not doing so?"  
  
"Because he is stubborn," Elladan blurted out. Father and son glared at each other but the hasty words broke the tension in the elegant foyer.   
  
Galadriel laughed- the high, sweet laugh of the younger Peredhil generation's childhood- as she shook her blond head. Glowing with the ethereal light of wisdom and grace, she took Arwen by the hand and looked to each young face in turn. "I think there is much we need to talk of, and it is best to do it sitting. Celeborn, perhaps you can settle Elrond's mind about the trials? Oh, and Lord Glorfindel- Haldir will bring our eleven prisoners to your hands by Wednesday."  
  
Elrohir muttered something under his breath that sounded like hope that orcs would attack and kill them on the way. But he left meekly enough as the redoubtable figure of the Lady of the Golden Wood led them off to a private sitting room.   
  
Elrond let out a sigh of relief at the sight.   
  
Celeborn observed him with a small smile and gently let go of his arm. He judged it safest since Glorfindel was already supporting the half-elf and Elrond was clearly apprehensive of his guests.   
  
"Come, Elrond. We need to talk for a while on the proceedings for tomorrow." He waited considerately for the distressingly worn Elf Lord to precede him and then followed.   
  
Seated in his study, Elrond got the almost irrepressible urge to kiss his seat in joy at their speedy reunion but decided against it; he sat on it instead and invited Celeborn and Glorfindel to be seated where they wanted. Celeborn being Celeborn, he sat before the window so that he could safely observe everything while his own controlled countenance remained in shadow. Glorfindel respectfully seated himself out of the close circle of the two Ruling Lords, though he himself had as much right to their prestige as they did.   
  
And then the door opened and Elrond's knight in shining armour stepped inside without an invitation and a very determined look in his blue eyes.   
  
"Mae govannen, Lord Celeborn. Elrond, what are you doing out of bed when you are so clearly tired?" Legolas demanded, hands on his hips and barely a glance for any except the one he had sought out.   
  
Glorfindel hastily hid his smile in a raised hand and Celeborn watched the domestic scene between Elf Lord and Elven Prince with not a little amusement.   
  
"Legolas, there is much to discuss about the upcoming trials for next week," Elrond reminded him, expressively warning him not to make a fuss. But without thought, he held out a hand to the blond to offer a reassuring squeeze of his fingers as had become habit.   
  
Legolas pulled up a chair beside him, calmly took the proffered hand and raised a sweetly innocent smile to Elrond's suspicious look of enquiry. "You are tired and those sons of Morgoth almost killed you and our child. I have as much right to be here as you have."  
  
Elrond sighed, but didn't argue. Instead he turned to Celeborn in the hope that they could start without further interruption.   
  
Cekeborn cleared his throat and leaned forward. "You are right, Prince of Mirkwood. I apologize for not remembering that earlier." Legolas blushed and tweaked absently on a long fore-finger in his grasp. "With your consent, Galadriel and I will judge Aurief ourselves, as the ruling Lord and Lady of Lothlorien from whence he hails. We would call on you to bring charges against him and we would listen to your evidence in objectivity and fairness. Any will be allowed to make a statement to the court on behalf of either of you. This is, of course, only with your consent."  
  
"Of course," Elrond agreed, "I would be honoured. And truthfully, it will shield me from being too punitive."  
  
"Excellent! Then that will proceed as smoothly as possible. We shall try to make it as quick as we can. There should be no trouble."   
  
Legolas promised himself that indeed it wouldn't. He already had a very clear idea of what he would say to the judges- "Lord Celeborn, I give you fair warning that I mean to ask for the reclaiming of honour on behalf of myself, Lord Elrond and our daughter."  
  
There was silence in the room as all turned to stare at the youngest elf sitting proudly in their midst. Elrond felt his stomach lurch- which did not much good for his stitches- though Celeborn and Glorfindel were more surprised than horrified. The practise of reclaiming honour was not commonly seen anymore in the Third Age, having its traditions an antiquated form of Sylvan lore that was no longer used even amongst the Wood Elves themselves, let alone the Noldo.   
  
"That is something that I cannot advise," Celeborn tried to say, "I can certainly arrange for an apology to be made in open court, and your, eh, loss of honour will be taken into account against him but..."  
  
"Forgive me, my Lord, you have not understood me. If you find Aurief guilty of the charges brought against him, I will ask the court for the right to settle his fate myself and reclaim the honour and trust that he has abused with the ruling family of Imladris."  
  
"Legolas, what you are proposing is madness," Glorfindel snapped, not willing to be quite as diplomatic as Celeborn, "We can understand your desires, but what you demand is a method of punishment that will not serve as useful purpose! And while I might agree that Aurief deserves to be brought low for his crimes, you are giving him a way out by pitting yourself against a very worthy opponent."  
  
"He was a worthy soldier, young Greenleaf," Celeborn put in, shaking his silver head in warning, "He is no easy opponent. And honour dictates that he will choose the weapon. You are notoriously skilled with the bow, but he is a master of the sword."  
  
"I cry insult, my Lord Celeborn, at the news you think me unable to hold my own in a sword duel," Legolas commented chillingly, "I have spoken to my father of this matter. He supports me. Elladan and Elrohir offered to take my place on behalf of their father but I would not have it. As for the punishment not being useful, I warn you now that the fight will end in permanent conclusion. One of us will die and none but the striking hand may stop that death blow."  
  
"No!" Elrond found his voice is a sudden rush of fear. "No! I forbid it! Celeborn, you must refuse such a mad scheme. It is not even to be considered, surely!"   
  
"This is not your decision to make, Elrond," Legolas informed him quietly, "It is mine alone."  
  
Again, Celeborn was forced to agree, and he wished very much that it did not have to be the Prince of Mirkwood. For he knew the passion that shone from those blue eyes; and to him it spelled trouble. "I am afraid he is right."  
  
Elrond shut his mouth with a snap and shivered as if the slowly departing winter had intruded into his study. Rising, he made for the door without further ado. "If I have no say in it, I will not stay to plan a potential death in my hallways. Pardon me, my Lords, Prince Legolas; I have a three week old infant to care for and must go to her."  
  
Glorfindel stood to intercede but a strong hand pushed him back down, reminding him with furious grey eyes that no matter how frail the body was, it was still possessed of great strength. He sat down with a glimmer of understanding and let his Lord pass him by.   
  
Elrond shut the door very quietly and made his way to his rooms. He pulled his robes tighter around him as the chill travelled from his neck and shoulders down his spine to settle with an uncomfortable throb in his lower back. However, he was not destined to be left to wallow in his morbidity in peace, for a familiar figure stood waiting patiently for him out of his doorway.  
  
"Galadriel. Is there something I can do for you?"  
  
"I think perhaps there is something I can do for you, Elrond Half-Elven. But first you shall drink this."  
  
Too late he noticed the cup of aromatic brew in her hands and resigned himself to having company in his misery. "As you wish," he sighed reluctantly, inviting her into the sitting room that thankfully preceded his bedchamber.   
  
"How is your strength, Elrond? From one healer to another, and be truthful!"  
  
He smiled wryly and took the seat opposite her. He accepted the brew and sipped cautiously while contemplating his answer. While Galadriel could never read his mind, it was best to give her straight answers for then she never used devious means of interrogation. "I am not so well. I have been starved, drugged, frozen and deprived of solace and hope for three months without ceasing. All the while I underwent a most difficult pregnancy which would have worried any healer in a female, let alone a male. Yes, I am not so healthy at the moment."  
  
Galadriel's unblinking gaze was filled with compassion and sympathy as he dropped the masks he usually donned for those he loved. She did not pity him, for there was nothing about him to pity. But she did grieve for the pain of one who was a friend and somewhat of a family member. She held her tongue, knowing he would speak if his heart so desired it.   
  
He clearly did not desire the choice of topic. "Are my children well?" he asked abruptly.  
  
"They are confused and a little upset," she remarked, "But they will adjust. It has been a shock."  
  
"Yes, I imagine it has," Elrond sighed, rubbing his tired brow, "They thought they had lost their mother so tragically, only to discover that she wasn't their mother to begin with! I would take their pain if I could, but they will not speak of it with me. I try to explain, but they say nothing and take pains to change the subject. I imagine they will talk when they have something to say, but that does not make the waiting easier."  
  
"No, it does not," the Lady agreed, "And you have always preferred taking action to waiting."  
  
Elrond's eyes narrowed at the tone of the words. He knew that artless gentleness very well by now, and the look of companionship in her eyes was even more displeasing. The Lady of the Golden Woods was planning on of her probing interrogations! "Galadriel, if this conversation is done?"   
  
"I desired to ask your opinion on the Prince of Mirkwood's plans to reclaim honour from Aurief. He does it for you."  
  
"He does it because he feels guilty," Elrond corrected, snapping because he truly did not want to discuss Legolas and their relationship with Galadriel, "I have nothing to say about it."  
  
"Celeborn thought otherwise," she rebuked quietly.   
  
Grey eyes met grey eyes and both locked into a contest of wills. There was no chance for Galadriel to read his thoughts because the half-elf had never allowed it; even as a youth he had kept watchful guard over himself with an obsessive unconsciousness.   
  
She commented on it, watching a smile tug at his lips. "It says much about the trust you placed in Aurief," she continued blandly, "For you never heard his approach before he assaulted you."  
  
Elrond stiffened and stood, desperate to end such a strenuous conversation. He was genuinely fond of the Lord and Lady of Lothlorien, but they could certainly be very exhausting. "Could this not be discussed at the trial next week?" he asked, panicking when the elf-maid gave no sign of intention to move.   
  
"It will," she promised composedly, "Now do not change the subject. What of Legolas? How much trust do you place in him? Enough to never notice his approach?"  
  
"A herd of oliphaunts make less noise," Elrond growled, "Galadriel, please! All I want is a few minutes to myself to think and if I do not get that, there is no telling what I will do. I trusted Aurief; he betrayed my trust. I trust Legolas; I have yet to see him do anything but uphold my confidence. Well?"  
  
Galadriel nodded and rose, a suspiciously triumphant gleam on her lovely face. "Very well," she smiled, "I will leave you to your rest."  
  
Elrond waited only until she had left before making his way through the door on his left to the room next door. Though previously used as a personal retreat when Celebrian was no longer there to use it as her study, it was now filled with all the necessities of housing an infant only three weeks old. He nodded to the nurse and bade her take the afternoon for herself.   
  
His daughter, he was thankful to see, still slept on like an angel, cocooned in the warm blankets and wraps that an over-anxious family had bestowed on her. He ruffled the little fringe of dark hair on her head with the lightest of touches, not wanting to wake her but wishing that she would anyway. Her eyes were blue and glazed in sleep, her innocent face relaxed in her repose.   
  
"Your father, my Bronwe- by which I do not mean myself- is being a fool," he whispered to her, "And I might well knock him on the head myself if he doesn't soon come to his senses."  
  
In answer, she yawned, blinked, whimpered and then went back to sleep, clearly of the opinion that she couldn't care less. 


	3. 3

"Elrond?"  
  
The light tap on the door merely confirmed his suspicions that someone had entered the outer chamber. He nodded absently and told Legolas to enter. He would have preferred to level a cold eye at the brat and call him every kind of name there was, but unfortunately he was passed the age of such youthful indiscretion. Besides, his Bronwe was too young for such language.  
  
"Is Bronwe awake?"  
  
"Yes," Elrond smiled, glancing up to the awkward archer in order to put him at ease, "Would you like to take her? We have talked enough for now."  
  
"Oh, really?" Legolas grinned, taking the child with a happy glow in his eyes, "And what, pray tell, has your Ada been filling your pretty head with? Let me guess... he has been discussing the various means of ensuring that the world does not come to a fiery end! Am I right? Yes? I am?"  
  
The baby made a sound that might have been a squeal and might have been a snort. It sounded very rude, but Legolas was inclined to think it an invitation to be companionable. So he sat down beside the Lord of Imadris and turned her so that she could look to both parents. "Well, perhaps we should also let him into the pact we made the other day about taking him out a little more? Hmmm? Do you think he'll put up a fight? There might be violence involved! Ha! I think we can beat him together; yes, of course, we can!"  
  
Elrond let out a snort very similar to that his daughter had made and stood up. "I do not know about the two of you, but I do not intend to fight," he replied with dignity.  
  
Legolas chuckled and followed the Elf Lord from the room. The walk to the gardens was leisurely and carefully, neither adult elf willing to yet spoil the good of the day with the conversation they were bound to have.  
  
Arwen stopped them on the way, cooed and tickled for a few seconds and had her attempts at baby-snatching foiled by a very efficient father. She went away soon after, sensing that her presence was an intrusion.  
  
"Very well, my Lord Elrond, speak freely from the wisdom of your years," Legolas sighed, only half teasing when the grey eyes looked to him for the fourth time in contemplative silence.  
  
"Do not mock my great age, you unprincipled scion of the House of Thranduil," Elrond replied in kind, more light humoured because he wanted to put his young companion at ease. His arguements would fail, he knew, if Legolas was to walk away feeling insulted and threatened.  
  
It seemed to work, for a beaming smile of mirth was levelled his way. "I? Mock the Lord of Imladris? I would certainly never dare," Legolas smiled, "Come, my Lord. Be honest with me, as I was with you. There is something serious in your mind."  
  
"Do not call me 'Lord', Legolas," Elrond sighed, "It does not seem suited for your lips, somehow. But yes, there is something serious in my mind. And I believe you know what it is. You still feel guilt, do you not?"  
  
Legolas led them both to a stone seat in Elrond's private gardens and sat down. He looked to his child, his first child and at the rate his heart felt, quite possibly his last. "Look at Bronwe, Elrond," he said quietly, "Is she not beautiful?"  
  
"She is, melethron. But what is she to do with a reclaiming of honour? She is too young to feel insult, and with great good sense on our part she will grow to learn that insult has never yet broken bones and never will."  
  
"Elrond, do you not understand? She is my child. And yes, I sired her with you and many may not understand that. But those insults I will bear. What I will not, and cannot, bear is knowing that Aurief deliberately sought to hurt her. Valar forgive me, but I can even understand his quarrel with you! But Bronwe is just an innocent babe; how has she hurt him? Yet he sold her into slavery as surely as he did you."  
  
Elrond sat still and turned that over in his mind. He could understand it; he had never not understood the sentiment. But he was a different person to Legolas and he could not comprehend striking out so viciously in anything but need. During the kidnap, yes. But when everything had been settled and his plans foiled? What good was there in nurturing hatred even in peace? And yet... could he really blame Legolas for that?  
  
"I know it seems unfair just now," the Elf Lord began, "But Galadriel and Celeborn will find suitable punishment for him. He will serve a very long time for the good of others. And everywhere he goes, every elf he meets will know him for what he is- a liar, a cheat and an enemy to his own kind."  
  
"Everyone?" Legolas frowned at the word as his daughter wrapped her fist in his blond braid, "Elrond?"  
  
"I meant to speak with Celeborn about this. I am willing to make the trial public."  
  
"Elrond!" Legolas clutched Bronwe tight in his arms as he was so shocked he was in danger of dropping her to the grass. "Melme, but that is ridiculous! You would be exposed to the gaze of all of elfdom!"  
  
"And the rest of Aman besides- yes, I know," Elrond completed wryly. He reached out a hand to carefully pull the blanket away from Bronwe's face so that she wasn't closed in. "It will be one way to ensure Bronwe's future. I cannot do what I once did for Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen. I will not lie to anyone. At this moment, my children are so ashamed of their heritage that they will not speak to me of it. I will not let Bronwe go through that. She need never hide her birth from anyone. And at worst, I will merely be subject to insults behind my back."  
  
"Of that I am certain; none would dare insult you to your face."  
  
The half-elf's mouth twitched into the beginnings of a smile. It amused him, this fear people had of him, as if he were some unapproachable Lord of great wisdom and aloof character. Never yet to his knowledge had he turned anyone away friendless or without comfort... or had he?  
  
"Legolas! Are you insane to bring a three week old babe out in the chill winter's air?"  
  
"Ada!" Legolas squeaked and bounded to his feet. "Ada, do not creep like that. You frightened me!"  
  
"Perhaps the famed Mirkwood archer had better look to his instincts and not let his guard down so much," the caustic reply came. The slender figure of the King of Mirkwood strode casually around the enormous bush and then stopped. "Lord Elrond."  
  
Elrond sighed. It sounded to him as though Thranduil was telling himself that he should have expected to see the dark cloud in his perfect blue sky.  
  
"I will leave. It seems I have interrupted a conversation."  
  
Elrond got to his feet and courteously invited the King to take a seat with them. "Nay, King Thranduil. You disturb nothing. And I believe Bronwe would be delighted to see you again."  
  
Legolas winked at the elf lord as his father smiled at the child and played silently with her for a while. "She likes you," the Prince remarked.  
  
"As I do her," Thranduil admitted, his voice softer than usual.  
  
Elrond swallowed a smile and tucked the incomplete conversation away for another private time. Watching the father and son together made him realize he was not a part of the garden and should withdraw. "Excuse me," he murmured, "I should return to the house."  
  
Thranduil looked up with detached concern in his blue-grey eyes. "Are you quite well, my Lord?" he questioned.  
  
"I am fine. There is just work..."  
  
"But surely you cannot be working so soon after the child!" Thranduil was no stranger to governing a land and its people. More than Legolas he knew the stress involved in such a task. And he had also been told by his distraught son of the ill-health the rescued Elf Lord had been in when found.  
  
Elrond blushed a little and straightened himself as if unconsciously preparing already for some kind of sting to be directed his way. "I am perfectly able to resume my duties," he intoned blandly, "It has been three weeks."  
  
Thranduil's eyes narrowed and his face set. Standing, he handed the baby silently to his son and then proceeded to glare at the half-elf with a disapproving eye. "Lord Elrond, when my son told me of the mess he was in, I was less than happy. When he mentioned you were carrying his heir, I was in a fair way to be furious. But this child," he pointed a finger to Bronwe, "Is my grandchild. Whatever it means to you I do not presume to know. But I do know you cannot give Bronwe the care she needs if you yourself are not well! I demand that you rest!"  
  
Elrond blinked.  
  
Legolas burst out laughing.  
  
The baby let out a sound that seemed to be agreement.  
  
"Am I understood?"  
  
"I think you had better leave it there, Ada," Legolas chuckled, handing the baby back. "I think you just sent our gracious host into shock!"  
  
"Well, it is about time, then, that someone did," Thranduil grumbled, "You have advisers, my Lord; think to use them some time."  
  
Elrond blinked again, still dazed.  
  
"Elrond? Melme, are you all right?"  
  
Elrond broke from his trance as Legolas tapped his cheek and peered worriedly into his eyes. He raised a hand to his head and quickly grabbed at his fleeting dignity. "Thank you for your concern," he murmured, "I will... heed it... as far as I am able."  
  
"Ha!" Thranduil snorted, "I do not believe you."  
  
"You never have."  
  
"Elrond!"  
  
"My apologies, Legolas."  
  
"I'm sure Ada didn't mean..."  
  
"You know perfectly well I did, Legolas!"  
  
Legolas gave up. He resigned himself to playing the mediator between the two most frustrating elves since Erestor and Glorfindel stopped aiding the twins in playing tricks on each other. And what was more, he mused, he couldn't very well take either side or he would only succeed in worsening things. Suddenly he realized that silver-grey eyes and grey-blue eyes were both directed to his face.  
  
"I'm sorry," he started, "Did someone say something?"  
  
"I was attempting to gain your father's help in persuading you that a reclaiming of honour was unnecessary," Elrond growled, a dark look flung to his guest.  
  
Thranduil wasn't fazed; returning it with a glare just as dark. "And I was attempting to point out that you already have my support."  
  
Legolas stifled a smile and plastered a look of innocent sorrow on his face as he turned to scowling Lord of Imladris. "I am afraid that this is true," he owned, shaking his blond hair in mock regret, "I spoke with my father on this subject just last night. He deems it a good idea."  
  
"A good idea?" Elrond was stunned, looking from father to son with sarcastic eyes. "How exactly is it a good idea? You will expose your son to the same scrutiny that my family will be cursed with once the trial brings this- this situation to light!"  
  
Thranduil sighed. "I have never shied away from contentious issues, my Lord; you know that. And love is love. Whomsoever my son chooses to give his heart to is a choice I will support."  
  
"Even a Peredhel, a half-elf who you cannot abide for his perceived part in the death of your father?" Elrond had not meant to bring up bad memories, and he did so very gently so as not to seem disrespectful to the dead.  
  
Legolas put a hand up over his eyes, afraid to see the blood that would surely now be spilt to the snowy ground. But all that happened was that Thranduil looked down to his granddaughter and shrugged. "It changes not the way I feel. But my son's happiness will and must come first. Would you do less for your children?"  
  
Elrond thought to Arwen and shivered. Though he still fought it, he knew that there would come a time when he would relent to her union with Aragorn. "I would not," he agreed, sitting down beside the King though careful to keep a distance, "But I still do not condone Legolas putting himself in danger."  
  
"Legolas, perhaps now might be the time to explain as you explained to me," Thranduil commented, never taking his eyes off his whining grandchild, "Come, my Bronwe, it seems you desire to be fed. I assume that that is not your job, Lord Elrond?'  
  
Elrond had been staring at Legolas blushing before him and remembering a time before when he had licked those delectable ear tips until the younger elf had turned just that highly amusing shade of pink. Therefore he was not prepared to be addressed on so ridiculous an issue. "No," he said absently, "Ask a member of my staff to direct you to the chamber just beside my rooms on the right." Then he remembered something. "Oh! Ask Erestor! He will know which room I mean."  
  
Legolas waited only until his father had disappeared from sight before taking his place. Elrond turned a little to face him and adopted an innocently enquiringly look on his face. Neither noticed the two who were walking behind the bush and so ducked down to listen before they could be seen.  
  
"I- I told you that I could understand Aurief's quarrel with you," Legolas began softly, "And I do. You bore his children and... he was never allowed to be their parent. But that does not mean that I do not feel anger for what he did."  
  
"Legolas..."  
  
"No!" A pale finger rough with callouses- and how well Elrond did remember the feel of that particular finger- touched his lips with the lightest of brushes, warning him to be quiet. "I told you also of my feelings for you. Again, I do not expect you to return them. But I ask that you let me feel. For if I must pretend that I do not feel as I do, even to myself, I will not be able to. And a part of that is to protect you, and protect what you stand for. He was going to sell you into slavery, melme, and he hurt you. He caused you pain and that... that is unforgivable. I almost killed him before but Glorfindel stopped me."  
  
Elrond sighed and brought his hands up to cover his face. The look of hope and desperation in his young lover's eyes was going to be his undoing one day; he knew that with a tired certainty. And he wanted very much to say that he felt the same, but he could not. It would not work for them. There was too much difference!  
  
Behind the bush, Arwen put a hand to her mouth lest she sigh with frustration at the foolishness of the two males. Aragorn just looked uncomfortable and amused. He could think of plenty of ways that his friend could be made to blush over that tender little speech. He doubted he'd ever do that to Legolas, however; the elf knew too much about his own romantic speeches!  
  
"Legolas, I am... honoured," Elrond winced at his lack of creativity, "to know you believe this. But are you not a little young?"  
  
Arwen groaned into her hand and shut her eyes. Aragorn winced at his foster father's senselessness.  
  
"Very well, Lord Elrond, if that is the way you think, I believe this conversation is over," Legolas snapped, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He bounded lightly to his feet and made to stalk off in an insulted temper but a muffled curse sounded half a second before strong fingers wrapped themselves like lightening around his wrist and tugged.  
  
He found himself pulled down to the Lord of Imladris' lap in very indecent and highly inelegant haste. Still spitting out the mouthful of hair he had swallowed, he found his chin taken in a hard grip and grey eyes boring into his.  
  
"You," Elrond ground out, "Are the most infuriating elfling it is my destiny to meet."  
  
Legolas could not resist. That was exactly what the Elf Lord had said before the first time Legolas had kissed him. They had been arguing in the gardens the morning of his return and Elrond had insulted him in just the same way. Legolas had just laughed, made giddy by forcing the renowned Lord of Imladris to loose his temper, and had surged forward and kissed him.  
  
And with a quiet smile of apology, he did the same again. The kiss lasted longer, however, than that first one. For one thing because the dark-haired half-elf was not struggling away with fear in his grey eyes, and for another because it turned into one of the long sweet kisses that they had grown used to sharing before the mayhem over babies and slavers. And neither really wanted to let go.  
  
Arwen sighed, clapped her hand back over her mouth with fear that she had been too loud and leaned happily enough against Aragorn's shoulder. Aragorn for his part was trying to reconcile the two people he had never seen in any kind of sexual light with the two people kissing like lovers in the middle of a garden, never mind how private.  
  
By the time the two broke apart, they were breathing hard and very certain that they shouldn't continue unless they wanted to do so in a bedroom. And Elrond was already questioning the wisdom of starting something like this all over again when he had sworn to himself to never share a bedroom with Legolas again under any circumstances.  
  
The Prince must have seen something in his lover's face because he smiled and shook his fair head, dropping one last feathery kiss on the swollen lips. "Nothing more need happen," he whisper, "And I do not expect any declarations from you. But I will ask to reclaim your honour and the honour of our child."  
  
Elrond had felt everything in their kisses to know better than to argue. Had their roles been reversed and had he been younger, he would no doubt be doing the same. "I do not want you hurt. You are precious to me, even if I cannot give you what you want. Will you at least stop it at first blood?"  
  
"No," Legolas said decisively, "To the death. I will probably not kill him. But I will die trying."  
  
Elrond shivered and leaned forward to touch foreheads with the elf, as if trying to touch minds through the action. "And what if you do die?" he begged, "What about Bronwe? How will I tell her when she asks?"  
  
"You will bring her up anyway! Even were we to bond, I could not live in Imladris; not while Mirkwood is still so beset. And I will win. Do not fear that! I would kill Herdir too, but I fear giving Lord Celeborn sleepless nights."  
  
The two laughed quietly between themselves and then Elrond let Legolas go, rising to walk with him to the House; not touching him in any way but still feeling the sweetly bitter taste of a last kiss on his lips. 


	4. 4

Author's Note: Sorry for being gone so long but I have other work schedules to upkeep and this has to come a close second to that. I'll try to get it done as soon as I can.

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Galadriel and Celeborn sat gracefully in the delicate furniture of Imladris' state rooms, wilfully closing their eyes to the nervous threesome around them. To any eye but the knowing, Arwen and her twin brothers would seem merely stiff and painfully formal. To those who had once been their much-loved grandparents, the young elves were fearful and wary.

Until their father entered the room.

"Galadriel, Celeborn," he said quietly, "my youngest child." It was the simplest statement in all of Arda and yet conveyed so very much to the two who rose at the sound of their names.

Galadriel smoothed blanket away from the child's head, smiling her impenetrable smile as blue eyes turned to her. She remembered another pair of blue eyes so like them, eyes that had belonged to one she had once held in her arms with the same tenderness that the half-elf employed.

"She is beautiful," Celeborn complimented softly, a hand on his wife's shoulder as he sensed her pain, "How does she fare?"

"She is none the worse for her ordeal," Elrond assured him, "For which I will be forever grateful. For all his evilness, Herdir did all he could for her to live." He noticed the look in Galadriel's eyes and smothered a small smile as relief flooded through him. "See if she comes to you, my Lady."

But Galadriel was captivated by something more in those blue eyes and a merry peal of laughter rang through the room. "Oh no, my Lord. She will cry if I lay one hand on her."

"What?" Elladan and Elrohir strode hurriedly to their father's side to inspect their little half-sister with anxious eyes, "She does not seem upset? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," the elf-maid giggled, taking a deliberate step backwards, "But she does not trust me. I think, Elrond, you were very apprehensive of our visit; for she will not suffer my touch- either physical or mental- without a clear warning not to harm you."

Celeborn joined her in taking their seats again as Elrond looked down at his daughter in not a little surprise, searching her rounded little face for a sign of affirmation. She would only coo like the little charmer she was and hold out a hand for his hair.

And so the days passed, with all those in Imladris relaxing under the influence of the kind wisdom of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. Glorfindel received word that the party of guards of Lothlorien had been sighted within the borders and would reach the house a day late.

With the slight reprieve that this offered, a fragile routine of talk and gentle merriment began to take over. Meals were times for conversation of all things under the sun and the mornings were spent discussing the state of the nations with the relaxation that came with peaceful times.

But peace was not something that could last.

And so it was, on the fourth day of Galadriel and Celeborn's stay, Haldir and his troop of guards accompanied the eleven captives into Imladris. There were blank faces encountered as all the elves of Imladris stared in curiosity at the prisoners, wondering what the crime was that they were charged with and did it have anything to do with the much publicized rumours of their Lord?

Elrond was in attendance when Haldir bowed respectfully before him, a hand on his heart as the tradition dictated. "Lord Elrond, I bring you the captives as per instructions by the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood."

"Thank you, Marchwarden," Elrond said coldly, not paying him any attention as freezing silver-grey eyes swept over the ragged group before alighting on the two he had waited to see the most. "There were no problems on the journey?"

"There were no orcs," Haldir said carefully.

Grey eyes swung to him and then softened. "My apologies, Haldir of Lothlorien. I am very remiss. My guards have readied holding cells for the prisoners and will remove this cumbersome burden from you and your elves. Erestor, please ensure that all these are given food and lodgings to satisfy their needs. Haldir, when you have rested, return to my office; I would speak with you."

"Elrond."

The voice seemed to come from nowhere and the Elf Lord actually started at the sound of his own name from that particular presence. His countenance hardened with pure fury as he looked a measured glance to Aurief's mocking smile.

"How is your daughter?"

Elrond stiffened as the men around the elf began to smirk, scorn and pity evident in their demeanours. Haldir made a quick motion to one of his guards and a gag was instantly on hand to be forced between those sensuous lips.

Elrond held himself in check but obeyed his urges and walked slowly down the stairs to his house to confront his enemy. "You have something to say," he commented, conveying none of the anger or vindictiveness that he might actually feel, "Very well then. Speak loud for all to hear."

"I merely asked after your daughter, my Lord," Aurief replied. But the elf looked ill-at-ease now. There was something infinitely dangerous when the Lord of Imladris looked just so. "Her birth was so very irregular."

"My daughter is well, thank you."

One of the men let out a snort. Without missing a beat, the half-elf whirled and fastened vicious fingers around the dusty throat, lifting until the man was being throttled as his feet left the ground. Haldir signalled to his men again, this time to move away. He was of the opinion that the Elf Lord should deal with the humans as they had been willing to deal with him. And it seemed that Elrond shared his opinion.

"Only the elf amongst you is to be tried by the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood," he informed them, flinging the man down to land in the dirt at his feet, "I hold your lives in my hand and you stand on the grounds of my domain. Do not try my mercy for you may find it wears very thin."

The man's shoulders heaved as he choked in great lungfuls of air, blinking rapidly to clear the spots from before his eyes.

The Lord of Imladris opened his mouth to say something more when a sudden shout came from a lone rider approaching the house on a steaming horse.

"My Lord," the patrol guard called, "My Lord, I bear an urgent message from the borders."

"What is it?" Elrond demanded, forgetting his anger in instant worry.

"A train of men demands entrance, my Lord. They bear a standard from a kingdom I have not seen, but their King seeks an audience with you."

"Take these away," Elrond snapped, turning to his guards and waving a hand over the dust-stained eleven, "Feed them and clothe them and see that they are not ill-treated. Now tell me, who is this King and has he said aught about his purpose?"

"He revealed himself as King Gorrofer," the answer came, "And he comes to seek his mating slave."


	5. 5

There were a few minutes when Elrond seriously considered the possibility that he was trapped in a nightmare or an alternate reality in which the sole purpose was to humiliate and break him. But then common sense- and the presence of others- came back and he simply nodded woodenly. "Give them entrance but let armed guards escort them here."

A fresh guard rode off with the message and the Elf Lord turned to find Erestor standing behind him. "Prepare rooms, mellon nin," he sighed tiredly, "I'm afraid all of Arda is landing up on our doorstep. It would not surprise me in the least if Mithrandir were to appear now with a contingent of hobbits and dwarves!"

"It is to be hoped that he will not," Erestor declared, "Go inside and sit, Elrond. I'm sure that Elladan and Elrohir may greet him on your behalf."

"I do not intend in the least to greet him," Elrond pointed out, "Indeed, I will refuse to do so. He is not welcome here."

"Then why give him permission to enter?"

"Imladris is open to all who seek it. And King Gorrofer deserves an explanation to recent happenings. After all, he is still missing his mating slave."

Erestor merely compressed his lips and said nothing, bowing slightly to indicate his willingness to carry out the instructions of his Lord and left, calling imperiously to the elves of the household to hasten preparations. Elrond stayed at the entrance for a few minutes, thinking intently. He had not, perhaps, been as honest as he should have been; for he was more interested in seeing what his destiny might have been, had his rescuers not found him.

Legolas, naturally, did not take the news so well.

"He allowed him entrance?" the archer demanded, almost quivering with indignation.

Glorfindel exchanged glances with Elladan and Elrohir, the two moving to stand behind their elvish friend in readiness for any trouble. "He has," the seneschal agreed, "And he has his own reasons for it."

"I can well imagine," Legolas bit out, fuming as he paced the room, "But this is surely not the best time to bring him in! Elrond has barely recovered!"

"Legolas, please do not make this harder than it will be," Elladan soothed, "Ada cannot deal with your tantrums now as well as all the publicity these trials will surely bring. And King Gorrofer will still need to be spoken to, even if he is to be allowed in on sufferance."

"I do not intend to create uproar! But there is no sense in this. What is Elrond trying to prove?"

"Perhaps that I am capable of making decisions without anyone to hold my hand?" the dry answer came. Elrond shut the door and waved a dismissive hand to his friend and sons. "Nay; stay where you are. This conversation is not private. Legolas, I do not intend to do more than explain the situation to him. That is all."

The blond looked mutinously at his former lover from the other side of the room, blue eyes heated and ominous. Elladan crossed his fingers in hope and then the slim shoulders slumped. "I understand," the Prince muttered, "I only worry for you. What if this is some kind of plan to wrest you away by force? Or to take Bronwe from us?"

"Bronwe will be guarded at all times; you need not fear that!"

The Mirkwood Prince shrugged and strode past the Elf Lord, evidently not in the mood to discuss the subject any further. "Pray excuse me," he muttered in passing, brushing against the sleeve of a thick robe on his way, "I will be back before night fall."

And that was the best that Elrond could possibly hope for.

Preparations were made, and all of Imladris readied themselves, agog with curiosity and excitement. Elves whispered of foreign Kings and runaway slaves, exotic lands and betrayals, prisoners and trials... and through it all, the nobles of the land would say nothing except that there were indeed prisoners and Kings from exotic foreign lands, and that there would be a trial soon and that none needed to concern themselves just yet with the whys and wherefores.

Bronwe chose the moment to be cranky and disturbed, crying and whimpering as if in distress, her pretty blue eyes still interestingly free from tears. Arwen sat with her little half-sister, playing with her and soothing her evident injured feelings, singing lullabies in a sweet voice.

Erestor and Glorfindel were on hand to receive the King, standing stiffly in attendance and prepared to show the man with words and demeanor that he was not welcome.

Trumpets sounded and a sweetly harsh jangle of bells grew louder.

The two exchanged glances of dread.

Two guards of Imladris rode into view, their faces clearly showing their shock and delight. They were soon followed by a procession of horses decked in gold and scarlet, gleaming darkly under the early evening sky. Humans in the splendid livery of personal bodyguards rode starkly into sight, their burnished skins gleaming like the coats of their mounts.

Erestor felt his eyes widen at the magnificent sight. "Seemingly a rich nation," he murmured to his companion.

Glorfindel gave a curt nod of agreement. "But skilled," he pointed out, "Those weapons are beautifully forged and those soldiers move as if born to use them."

"Thank you, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower," Erestor sighed, turning to glance at the blond with an annoyed look, "When my head is cut off for the insult done to their King, I will think of your admiration for my murderers."

"Halt!"

The cry startled the both into looking back to the approaching procession. Both grey and blue eyes were drawn instantly to the four riders in the middle- two abreast- who carried the poles for a large overhead covering of scarlet cloth, for under that cloth sat the biggest man they had yet beheld! Indeed, Glorfindel was certain that the man contained some amount of troll blood in him, for nothing else to his mind could explain the solid look of those bones.

"Greetings, elven folk," a guard began, his peculiar accent invoking the words of the Common Tongue with a strangely melodic tune, "His Royal Highness, King Gorrofer of the Kingdom of Tulhuinen presents his compliments and his thanks for admittance to the Noble House of the Lord of Imladris. We crave pardon for this rude invasion into your nation and pray that it will not prejudice you against our cause, for we come on a matter of great urgency. Betrayal and fraud has been done to His Royal Highness King Gorrofer of the Kingdom of Tulhuinen, and he seeks his unclaimed property in your fair country. He charges me to present to you his hope that this distasteful business may be settled with as much amiability and speed as is possible."

The guard ended and Glorfindel finally allowed himself to blink, still reeling in the face of all those words. Erestor, however, seemed much more at home with words. "We welcome you with all good wishes to Imladris," he said pleasantly, "And are charged by Lord Elrond to convey his hope that you will be comfortable amongst us for as long as you choose to reside. He is indisposed at present but we are aware of the nature of the business which brings you to our door and Lord Elrond is as desirous of suitably settling it as His Royal Highness King Gorrofer of, uh, Tulhuinen."

Glorfindel relaxed as his old friend deftly made whatever polite sounds were needed and left him with nothing to do except keep his hand as close to his sword as he dared without causing insult and look intimidating. Not that the Tulhuinon looked capable of being intimidated. Their deep, dark eyes were fixed straight ahead and their backs were ramrod straight beneath their luxurious surcoats. Even their mounts were perfectly in formation. Glorfindel was not certain that he had ever seen soldiers this well trained before!

But trouble seemed to be brewing- "Lord Elrond is not in attendance to greet His Royal Highness? But that is an insult!"

Erestor bowed in apologetic agreement. "He has been severely ill and is recuperating. While his strength returns to him, he sends his most trusted advisers to bid you welcome."

The guard seemed mollified by that and nodded curtly. Introductions were made, all of which the King did not partake in, and then Erestor quickly showed them to the rooms that had been prepared for them. Glorfindel said nothing but accompanied Erestor, not liking to leave the steward alone with those he did not quite trust. In a fight, he knew as well as anyone that he would probably be no match for eight warriors of the kind he judged them, but the odds for two were better than for one.

The apartment reserved for the King of Tulhuinen was large, spacious and beautifully appointed enough to justify the fame of the elven State. The King and his personal attendant, a dark-skinned human who towered over Glorfindel let alone Erestor, seemed well pleased with it.

Erestor murmured the few sentences of reassurance and politeness that a good host always offered and made his way softly as a cat to the door where Glorfindel waited.

"Lord Steward..."

He stopped and turned.

King Gorrofer turned his face from the window and smiled, a slow smile of clever contemplation fanning over his fleshy face until his mocking eyes were almost slits. The elves were fascinated to note that for all his bulk and ostentation, he was a very handsome human.

"Present my thanks to my slave and tell him that he has taste enough to satisfy me."

Glorfindel growled at the insult. Erestor turned with a warning on his lips but the Seneschal had already jumped to hasty speech without another thought- "The Lord of Imladris is no slave to you, human! You would do well to remember that!"

The dark-haired elf closed his eyes, swallowed, and waited patiently for the storm.

"Perhaps that is the truth," King Gorrofer replied, more cordial in tone of voice though his eyes continued to laugh with aloof amusement, "We shall see."

Erestor nodded, said something suitably non-committal and shoved Glorfindel from the room before him. Once outside, he set his jaw and said nothing until they were both well within the bounds of the family wing, where none but the most trusted of servants would hear their quarrel. He beckoned the blond into the nearest room, closed the door behind him and then decked him.

Glorfindel staggered back but long years of practise allowed him to recover his balance in a trice and he only just stopped his own fist from returning the favour. Instead he clasped his injured jaw and glared his anger and hurt.

"What in Mordor were you thinking," the steward hissed, grey eyes flashing fire, "Have you taken leave of your senses? Or did you leave them all in the Halls of Mandos when you returned to inflict yourself on us?"

Glorfindel heard movement behind the unlocked door and attempted to make that known to his raging abuser. "Erestor, if you would..."

"No! Another word and I will really lose my temper..."

"But there is a..."

"And you did not even think! How is that possible? Are you a child, Glorfindel, that you would do something so detrimental as reply with such thoughtlessness?"

The door opened and Erestor whirled, white-faced and glittering-eyed. Thranduil raised an eyebrow but did not seem too upset by being confronted with the stare of someone who might want to tear him limb from limb. He walked in and calmly shut the door.

"I see you are in a rage for something," the King of Mirkwood remarked, "Might I be of service?"

"This is a private conversation," Erestor snapped, "Please leave!"

"Oh? Private? I hope not a quarrel of, uh, passion?"

Erestor looked rather as if he was physically revolted by such a thought. Unfair though it was to Glorfindel, the steward really did feel his stomach turn. He had been friends too long with the Blarog Slayer to see him as a potential romance. Even an appreciation for his looks would not be much incentive to mix business and pleasure, and with the way he felt right now!

"No," he said stiffly, drawing himself to his full height and daring his gentle interrogator to say a word more.

Thranduil smiled, almost as if the answer gave him relief, and then nodded decisively, a curiously long look directed in Glorfindel's direction. "Then perhaps you will permit me to offer an ear? When one is angered, often talking helps."

"He was already doing so," Glorfindel said dryly, still cradling his bruised jaw, "And I have the battle scars to prove it."

"Excellent! Come, Lord Steward, walk with me in the gardens and tell me all about our glorious Balrog Slayer's obvious fallibilities."

Erestor tossed a venomous look to the blond he left behind, and swept off with reluctant slowness with the other, confident that there was a conspiracy against him but feeling strangely more willing to spend time with Thranduil than Glorfindel.


	6. 6

Author's Note: I quite like Gorrofer actually! In case anyone was wondering, I'm basing his people on Indians (not Native American; the Asian kind!). Tell me whether it works, but I just loved the thought of Elrond as the favorite wife in an Indian harem! Have I mentioned I love writing this series?

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Legolas had not returned by late evening. The meal was due to be served in three hours and he was still not returned! Elrond muttered darkly and rudely to no one in particular and Erestor had returned from his walk with Thranduil surprisingly ready to forgive Glorfindel.

"The King of Mirkwood offered excellent advice," he explained coolly.

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and looked an enquiry.

"He reminded me that you were a warrior with no subtlety and that I should not expect you to display tact when you have none," the steward glimmered, walking away without a backward glance and leaving his blond friend to glower at his back with his mouth open.

Thranduil, on being sought out to provide an explanation for this treachery, kindly reminded him that Erestor was only upset and would no doubt ask for him on the morrow when his sweetly persuasive nature was needed to pacify some disgruntled elves made nervous by too many honoured guests. Having calmed both Steward and Seneschal down, the King went back to his bedroom to plot his latest scheme. This time, he hoped it would end more with an alliance in Imladris than an actual argument. Though he had to agree that as far as its Lord went, he was not particularly interested in the Elven State at all.

Only Bronwe seemed in the mood for play, and she kept her three older siblings very happy for two hours by gurgling and smiling for all she was worth. The twins were already speaking of the tricks they would teach her, and of the weapons they would show her to use. Arwen had rolled her eyes and sighed. As the daughter of her father, she had early learned how to use a sword to best advantage, and Glorfindel had kindly shown her how to thrown sharp pointed objects with greatly accurate aim. Growing up around her brothers, she reminded them severely, would make self-defence a matter of necessity!

To which a royal battle had ensued that might have continued if their father had not walked in and fixed his coldest, most unnerving glare of disapproval at them.

Words stopped and all three shuffled their feet and stared at the ground as if caught in a prank again.

"I would hate it to be known," he said softly, "that my children are still immature enough to throw things at each other." Bronwe let out a sudden sound and he scooped her out of her crib, carrying her away as it were a punishment to his sons and daughter, "Only one of you has the excuse of age, and since Bronwe was not involved in such childish behaviour, I can only conclude that she is your better."

Having delivered this sternly disappointed little parting shot, he left them to creep to their separate rooms and reflect. All three had vivid memories of their father's temper. While he had never done as other parents and spanked them, he tended to be very creative when it came to taking punitive measures.

But the hour for dinner finally arrived and Elrond could not possibly postpone it. He would have to attend. And there he would meet his alternate destiny. He wondered anew what the King was like. An excited servant had been more than happy to tell him of the splendour of his retinue, and to express her opinion that the man was quite attractive in a human way.

So the Lord of Imladris dressed accordingly, sighing as he swathed himself in warm crimson velvet. It was far too bright a colour for his tastes, but it would at least give him a hint of colour. Besides which, the delicate silver embroidery over the high colour was tasteful but simple; he did not have to worry about looking ridiculously over-dressed.

His daughter was watching him from her place on his bed. Rather, she was watching the ceiling. He picked her up before doing his braids, knowing it would be a lost cause to do otherwise, for she would only upset them with her little hands.

"You, my dear, have too much energy," he sighed, tickling her under the chin.

She took the moment to cough slightly, startling her father and worrying herself. She began to cry as Elrond undid the little woollen vest to touch her skin. It was not heated, and as he pressed his fingers gently over her lungs, it did not seem that she breathed with difficulty.

Hearing a particularly loud wail, he concluded that it must have been a particle of dust.

"Very well, then," he soothed, "Tell me all! You certainly are not upset about not being invited to the Dining Hall, are you? It would be most unwise of you if you were!"

Bronwe began slowly to quieten down, sucking on a finger and then pushing it away, only to ask for it back again just so she could repeat the process.

"Yes," Elrond sighed with mock frustration, "You will unfortunately make many males miserable. You will flirt and dance and chew them up, only to spit them out when you have had your way with them. Well, you never got such bad manners from me, iel nin. And I am afraid your father is exhibiting the exact opposite- I fear he may cling so close as to cause us to argue."

It was too early still to make his way to the dining hall and since Bronwe was in the mood to play, he played with her, discovering that she was especially partial to having the perfect tips of her little ears caressed. It would probably give him nightmares when she was old enough to- ahem- find other uses for such actions, but for now it seemed to be lulling her into a kind of lethargic squeaking.

And that was how Erestor found them.

On the spur of the moment, Elrond decided that his Bronwe did not need to be segregated from the rest of the household, or hidden like a shameful secret, and asked his old friend to arrange for a bassinet to be placed beside him at his seat. He hurriedly braided his hair and suffered Erestor to twine silver ribbon through them and then left, feeling very much like a decorated solstice tree.

Bronwe he carried on his arm, decked out in white with warm blanket, and he dared anyone to look the least bit surprised as he swept imposingly through the door. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Glorfindel and his children. Erestor was at hand as well and it seemed they had all had the good sense to dress for the occasion.

Elladan and Elrohir were in green, the slight ornamentation of their apparel alone telling them apart. Arwen was decked in green as well, but a darker green that reflected the darkness of her hair and the cream of her skin. All three bowed mockingly to him as he entered and then came forward to attempt to steal their little sister away.

He rebuffed their attempts by side-stepping them and walking swiftly to Glorfindel's side. "Protect me, mellon nin," he pleaded playfully in an undertone, "My child will be kidnapped!"

Glorfindel laughed and put a hand to the pocket with the dagger that all the household knew about. "Stand back, thieves and vagabonds," he declared theatrically, "Or I will be forced to shed blood here!"

"Funny," Arwen giggled, "You will be forced to use force! It is a funny thing."

Erestor joined the small group, still in his customary black. But all could tell that the robe was expensive and costly, worn not because Erestor wished to blend into the background, but because he knew how well it became his winter looks.

Lindir hovered ethereally into view and stared around short sightedly for a while before making for the exit on the other side of the room. Glorfindel stopped him with some remark and the serene face turned revealingly sharp eyes to laugh some witty rejoiner back to them all.

"Oh," he exclaimed, blinking in the dreamy way he had, "Prince Legolas has returned and desired me to tell you that he will be here directly he has changed. He ordered a bath and then locked himself in his room. I hope he does not fall asleep. He returned with Estel after all."

Having added that thoughtful little aside, the scribe moved away to find the Hall of Fire for some unspecified reason.

Elrond smiled and shook his head as Elladan wrinkled his nose in reflection. "Are we certain that Lindir is quite aware of reality, Ada?" the eldest asked anxiously, "Why would Aragorn put Legolas to sleep?"

Erestor smiled as well and demurely clasped his hands in front of him. "He means, Elladan," the dark haired elf sighed, "That Legolas and Aragorn usually manage to arrive either wounded or exhausted from some misadventure. In such a case Legolas will certainly fall asleep in the bath."

"Oh."

They were joined not long after by Galadriel and Celeborn, both resplendent in white. Bronwe suffered herself to be held by the Lady, crying only a few notes as Galadriel smiled down on her. And then the moment arrived- King Gorrofer was announced.

Galadriel looked up, the pleasantness vanished to be replaced by a look of steel in her eyes. Celeborn, as usual, drifted a little to the side in order to watch the drama unfold. But the three Peredhil children clustered around their father as Glorfindel assumed a deceptively relaxed position.

The human entered, followed only by his personal assistant, large and solid and dressed in gentle blue. The long, flowing tunic fell in silken folds to his knees, the same material evidently used to make his leggings. The sides of the tunic were slitted and then bound with silver thread, a pattern of startling complexity repeated in silver and gold around the collar and cuffs. A delicately wrought ring with a blood-red ruby graced a large finger.

Elrond felt his eyes widen as the man's presence swept alarmingly over him. What was more, he did not recall ever having met anyone who outlined their eyes with thick black paint before, or coloured their mouths with red. The vision made for a startling one.

"Lord Elrond. Greetings and may the blessings of the Gods shower on your house."

The voice was musical, sensual and very insolent. Elrond felt his spine stiffen at the words. But he inclined his head and stepped forward, prepared to do his duty as host. "Greetings, King Gorrofer of Tulhuinen. My apologies for not meeting you at your arrival, but I was resting. Your journey has not incapacitated you, I trust?"

The king shrugged, hard muscle rolling easily beneath skin and silk. "I am never incapacitated in a new land, my Lord. You have many strange customs here."

Grey eyes began to glitter even as they gazed upward to maintain eye contact. Elrond knew well when he was being patronized; he had heard that tone of voice often enough in his youth from those who had thought his half-elven state made him unfit for the respect due to one of his station. "Indeed?" he asked silkily, "Nothing too serious, I hope."

"One of a serious matter," Gorrofer grinned, "My property was interfered with."

Everyone in the group stiffened and Glorfindel only just stopped himself from drawing his weapon. But as the human behind the King still carried a weapon that, though appearing to be ceremonial, might be perfectly capable of killing someone, he held still. But Gorrofer was not done and he strolled closer.

None noticed the two figures who had walked insolently in at the door. But the two figures were instantly on their guard, ears pricked and alert for the conversation that carried not only to them but to every servant in the near vicinity.

A hand reached out and touched a dark braid, smooth fingers gliding down it with a sensuous rasp until the soft pads caught on a twist of ribbon. "Very pretty," the human mused, "You are too thin, too pale and perhaps not as strong as I have been led to believe. But pretty nevertheless. You will serve me well."

Long fingers grabbed his wrist before his hand fluttered down the half-elf's neck. "I would not be so presumptuous," Elrond warned quietly, tightening his fingers to vices in warning.

"And spirited? We will suit well, then. I do not like meek slaves who simply lie back with blank minds."

"And I," a clear voice rang out, "Do not like your insinuations. Unhand the Lord of Imladris, your Majesty, and I will be less disposed to cut your throat."

Gorrofer stepped back with amused surprise and looked to the owner of the voice. As one, all the elves turned to find Legolas standing coolly in the doorway with Aragorn at his side. His father had evidently entered behind them both, for Thranduil directly an equally supercilious look to the human who dared stare so searchingly at his son.

"Saes, ion nin," he said gravely, "Standing in doorways serves no purpose. Is the dinner in Imladris changed, Lord Elrond? And here I thought I would be late."

For the first time in his life, and for what he fervently hoped was the last, Elrond smiled with genuine gratitude at the Mirkwood King and gracious waved to the prepared tables. Erestor appeared from nowhere to lead the two humans to their seats. Aragorn took his place with the family, as he always did when home. But as if on mutual agreement, all placed themselves with the assurance that Legolas would desire to sit as Elrond's right.

He did.

Elrond looked from his right, where his former lover was currently lounging with icy beauty in his seat in dull gold silk, to his left, where Glorfindel was sitting with equally deceptive easiness. The prettily wrought handle of one of Legolas' fighting knives protruded from a dull gold pocket and Aragorn had had the temerity to add his sword to his usual ensemble of black clothes suitable for a ranger in good company.

It was, he concluded jadedly, as Bronwe laughed with delight in her bassinet, going to be a long evening.


	7. 7

Author's Note: For the purpose of this fic, I have given Celeborn and Galadriel the ability to mind-speak. So that is indicated in italics. e.g.- '_blah_'

* * *

The first trial- that of Aurief- was scheduled for the next day and the Lord of Imladris was yet to find sleep. He was tired, drained and very worried. For hours he had paced his rooms, trying to find a way to reconcile the expected public outcry and his own distaste for it.

He sighed and turned to look out the window, gazing blankly at the view for comfort, smiling slightly as he observed one of his cooks sneak out to the soldiers' barracks. It seemed at least a few of his people were to have a better night than he was, at any rate!

Which only served to dampen his spirits again.

He looked to the door that separated him from Legolas. It was not locked; he knew that for a fact! It would be easy to open it, and he was almost certain of his welcome. He stepped cautiously towards it, fingers twitching as if ready to grasp the handle. After all, they needn't do anything; they could just talk. Then the fingers dropped and he strode to his own bed and bounced in with a petulant frown. Talking there would- and plenty- in the morning.

On the morrow, there was all the public outcry that he had envisioned. Elves sat in their seats in the large, graceful hall and whispered softly amongst themselves in their well-bred voices. Galadriel and Celeborn sat in front, blank-faced and aloof, listening as Elrond shut his pointed ears and baldly stated his case:

"... and his actions placed my child and I in fatal circumstances that almost led to one or both our deaths. I demand justice."

Celeborn nodded and leaned forward slightly. "And justice shall be had. Let Aurief of Lothlorien answer these charges against him." Silver-blue eyes looked sternly to the rising chatter. "And I would ask all else to remain silent."

Aurief stepped forward, cleaned and bathed and looking very mutinous. "My Lord, I have no answer," he said clearly.

Galadriel looked her surprise. "Have you nothing to say?" she asked incredulously, brows lowered over a piercing gaze. "Lord Elrond of Imladris brings a very serious charge against you."

"He knows not of what he speaks," Aurief said simply, "His back was to his attacker and to my ears, he has not mentioned ever seeing him. Or mentioned ever questioning his guards as to who placed him in their hands."

Glorfindel snarled and rose to his feet. "My Lord and Lady," he called urgently, "There were witnesses who heard Aurief admit to his part in the kidnap of the Lord of Imladris. We would take sworn oath to that effect! And all of us are honourable elves as the Court knows."

There were nods of agreement from the elves assembled behind, the majority of them being Imladris folk who did not appreciate the news that a renegade elf from Lothlorien was implying that their Lord and his family and advisers were liars.

Aurief shook his dark head and looked theatrically to the sceptical judges. "If it please you, they are surely honourable; but they are also Lord Elrond's friends and family! Is it not possible that they might be mistaken and willing to place blame on me because of their dislike and prejudice?"

The murmurs rose to almost to a low shout and Elrond turned to level a cold eye at his supporters. Celeborn did the same and Haldir took the opportunity to motion to Galadriel, asking for permission to speak. The lady nodded her blond head, waving a hand to beckon him forward from his position beside the captives.

Haldir stepped forward and bowed slightly in respect. "My Lord and Lady, I am no family member of this noble house, and I bear no more than a respectful acquaintance with the Lord of Imladris. I can vouch that the confession from Aurief's lips by the interrogation of Lord Erestor, as spoken in the presence of Lord Glorfindel, Lord Elladan and Lord Elrohir was perfectly in accordance with the one who assaulted and stole Lord Elrond."

"And how do you argue this?" Celeborn placed a lot of trust in his Marchwarden; he was not about to start disbelieving him now.

"There were details given that none but the kidnapper himself would have known," Haldir pointed out, "And Aurief did indeed admit to it himself. I do not recall the exact words- no doubt Lord Erestor can supply you with the written confession- but in effect they admitted not only to guilt, but to working in collusion with the human slavers for the specific capture of the Elf Lord."

Celeborn nodded and looked to his wife. '_I would hesitate to distrust Haldir_,' he said mentally, '_And the written confession is sure enough._'

She nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on the accused, but leaving the arrogant figure every so often to look to Elrond's steady regard, sympathizing with the set of his jaw and his obvious dislike for the entire situation. His children sat with him, as pale and as expressionless, fixing their eyes only on the scene before them and ignoring the whispers from behind.

'_I am in agreement_,' she answered back, laying her hand on his, '_Let judgement be served._ _He does not mean to talk._'

"Aurief of Lothlorien, step forward," Celeborn ordered, turning back and rising swiftly to his feet.

Dark blue eyes darkened in apprehension for there was nothing on the Elf Lord's face to hint at pardon or even mercy. Aurief, in fact, was finished. But he straightened his shoulders and did as he was bid, gazing defiantly at his Lord and refusing to drop his eyes when that silver-blue glare burned into his soul.

"You are judged guilty," Celeborn said simply, "You plotted against an elf and sought to aid his capture. By your own hands you carried him from safety and left him with those who would have sold him into imprisonment. And you worsened your crime by accepting payment for it. You had full knowledge that your victim was in a delicate condition, and you deliberately used that condition to your advantage, leaving him in the hands of those who almost brought about his death."

The words died away in the echoing stillness, accompanied by the melodic inflection of disapproval and anger. Celeborn let his judgements sift gently through the minds of all present, sparing a glance for the one who had brought the charges, watching the grey eyes close for a few minutes as if in relief. Then he returned to his task at hand.

"Lothlorien is ashamed," he said severely, "To own you. You were the good friend of my daughter; your family was respected by all who knew them. You, Aureif, were respected for your service to your land in spite for your arrogant disobedience to your commanding officers. But I will and must now banish you from Lothlorien and order you to never return. You are no longer welcome."

Aurief felt his eyes widen. Surely Celeborn would not do so? Stunned, he watched the sensitive lips continue to move, continue to speak though he could not hear the words through the roaring of his blood in his ears. He had no more status. As an exile he was left to wander the lands of Arda forever, lost to all peoples and alone. He would be no better than those humans who ran away from their ravaged kingdoms!

"... but I will grant you this one concession- a ship sets sail for Valinor in six months. I would advise you to accept passage on that ship and leave."

Aurief felt his heart leave his throat and settle once more into his chest. However, a movement from the corner of his eye made him break concentration and frown to his left, where the regal Prince of Mirkwood had risen to his feet and patiently waited for his turn to speak.

Celeborn looked to the Legolas and sighed. The elf was dressed in simple tunic and trews, obviously expecting his challenge to be accepted and thereby dressing for it accordingly. "Prince Legolas," he called, waving the young elf forward, "You have something to say, I believe."

Elrond shut his eyes and shook his head. As if it was not enough for his people to find out the entire rigmarole of his most recent pregnancy, but now they were about to find out that he seduced innocent-looking young princes too! He was doomed!

"Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel- I crave your pardon for interrupting your judgement on the accused," Legolas began sweetly, looking as if butter would not possibly have melted in his mouth, "I have a demand for the Court."

Aurief rubbed his tired eyes and groaned softly. "Get your own trial," he groused, "And leave me mine!"

Galadriel felt a laugh bubble in her throat but Celeborn glanced sternly back at her and she subsided. But not before noting that her husband too was laughing uproariously with his eyes.

Legolas simply shot the 'Lorien elf a dirty look and then slowly began to smile, an evilly contemplative little smile. "I demand the right to reclaim honour," he said simply, his grin widening as Aurief turned to stare at him with shock on his handsome face, "In the name of Lord Elrond and our daughter."

That did it. Celeborn simply sat down and massaged his aching temples. Galadriel watched in amusement as elves craned their heads forward to catch a glimpse of the petitioner, confident that they had either heard wrong or that they had mistaken the identity of the person. Surely the Lord of Imladris had not taken the young Prince of Mirkwood as a lover? And even if he had, would such an ancient and noble lord have submitted to being taken by him?!

Elrond looked to the heavens and gave up all hope of ever returning to a normal life. It would a wonder, he concluded gloomily, if his people ever respected him again.

"... I might have guessed Lord Glorfindel, but Prince Legolas?"

He turned to glare his displeasure at the wife of the wood carver who had mistakenly gasped that statement to her friend right behind him. She cowered beneath his gaze and begged his pardon. He nodded and turned back, to find that Glorfindel had heard it too and was studious not looking at him. There would be a 'Conversation' now, he realized. For that alone he was willing to kill Aurief.

"Silence," Galadriel said quietly, her words effectively calling everyone to some state of order as her sharp eyes bored through the hordes of excited people to remind them of whose exact presence it was that they were in. _'Celeborn?'_

'_Thank you_,' he answered back. "Prince Legolas, I have no doubt of your intentions, but surely such a means for revenge..."

"My Lord, he placed my daughter in grave danger and even should she have had a normal birth, he sold her as irrevocably to slavers as he did her father. Resting that fact aside for the moment, he caused great disturbance and misery in the household for the six months that he resided here. Lord Elrond in particular was daily subjected to an almost constant stream of insult and embarrassment, the mental and emotional stress only adding to the problems of his physical condition. If you call it revenge, my Lord, so be it. I only ask for the chance to repay him those harms done to both my daughter and my..." he stopped, mortified at almost admitting his feelings to an entire court.

Celeborn smiled a little but composed himself enough to nod gravely and say, "I see. And have you discussed this with Lord Elrond?"

"He has, Lord Celeborn," Elrond said quietly, "I do not advise it, but I will not dissuade him."

"And King Thranduil of Mirkwood? The Prince is your heir and should he be harmed, your Kingdom will suffer the effect. As his King, your permission must be sought."

Thranduil shrugged from his seat with what seemed almost to be a disinterested air. "Legolas will fight his battles," he replied coolly, "My permission is not needed in this case and my approval is freely given."

Galadriel was intrigued. She had not had the chance to speak much on this topic, preferring to keep all questions to such time when she was required to give objective opinion. But now she was intrigued- "You approve?" she echoed, "But your son may be harmed! And if my estimation is correct, he means this duel to last to deathblow. Aurief is skilled enough to deliver that deathblow. It is strange that you seem unconcerned by it."

Thranduil looked insulted. "I am not unconcerned," he corrected, "As a father, he is precious. As a King, he is too important to lose. But I have taught him to act on his feelings; and most especially to never allow someone to hurt those he loves. I am proud of his determination to fight that elf and I believe you place too little faith in the skills of my son."

A general gasp and Elladan and Elrohir leaned across to their very uncomfortable father- "You never make pretty speeches about us!"

Elrond did not even blink. "If either of you even think of reclaiming honour I will personally lock you both in a holding cell and throw the keys into the Bruinen."

Galadriel smiled, satisfied and leaned back, content to let her husband make his decision.

Celeborn thought it out, weighing the situation in his mind with the utmost care. On the one hand, his refusal would cause insult to Mirkwood and indirectly also to Imladris as it was done in the name of Elrond. On the other, he truly did not want to see the young archer killed in a dual through his own hotheadedness. "You will not reconsider?" he asked once more.

"I will not, my Lord."

"Very well," Celeborn agreed, shaking his silver-blond head as if he could not fathom why he was agreeing to this, "Your demands are heard and we will accept them. Know this, however- should Aurief win, he will walk free and be proclaimed innocent on the charges. His rights will be re-instated and justice will not be served."

"I have considered that, Lord Celeborn, and I still ask for a reclaiming of honour."

Bright blue and silver-blue shared equal looks of determination and then the entire court suddenly gasped. For a loud, long peal of laughter rang through the hall to echo and clatter against the cool walls and soft tapestries. Galadriel frowned and leaned forward; Celeborn narrowed his eyes as Aurief gave way to mirth.

"Can none of you see the humour?" that elf finally asked, wiping wet eyes and blinking to clear his vision, "I stand here, accused of being a monster to the world, when the Court hypocritically allows a murder to be planned for dawn the next morning! Lord Elrond sits there and accuses me of placing him and an innocent in danger. But what of the wife who he endangered by refusing to allow her to remain in Lothlorien? Lady Galadriel- would your daughter not be safe now if Lord Elrond had agreed to let her end the farce of their marriage and return to her home? Was it not her return to Imladris that placed her in the path of the orcs who tormented and tortured her?"

The pretty face of the Lady of Lothlorien began to colour in anger, red staining the smooth cheeks as that venerable elf-maid rose to fix a deadly glare on the insolent elf addressing her. "Dare you," she asked quietly, "Dare you truly say that this- this travesty of betrayal was done in the name of my daughter?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps you should properly examine your facts," Celeborn interrupted, laying hand on his wife's shoulder and pressing her to silence, "There was no blame to be placed on Lord Elrond for the misfortune of Lady Celebrien. And he certainly never sold an unborn innocent to slavery!"

"The child sired by the Prince? She was no part of my plan and had she already been born, I would have left her. But Herdir wanted proof of Lord Elrond's, ah, talent and so I obliged him by putting a fertility potion into a cup of wine on one of the nights that the lovers met. The misbegotten brat of a half-elf is none of my concern."

Elladan and Elrohir were on their feet and dragged back in the nick of time by Glorfindel and Erestor, both of whom managed to catch the Peredhils just an instant before they reached the smugly smiling elf. Legolas was less incensed, secure in his knowledge of getting his revenge on the morrow, and the simple touch of his father's hand on his shoulder steadied him. None but Celeborn thought to look to the person who really had the cause for complaint.

Elrond felt the words stab through him like a knife, like the sharply agonizing pangs of childbirth magnified a thousand times until he was almost certain that he would see blood if he looked down to his robes. Trembling with rage, he stalked unseeing past his sons and his friends, brushing past Legolas without a glance to stand face to face with Aurief.

Celeborn signalled to Haldir to stand close in case the furious Elf Lord offered violence.

But in spite of his obvious emotions, Elrond's voice was clipped and controlled. "You have insulted me for as long as we were acquainted," he murmured, "You have insulted the gentle memory of Celebrien by causing harm in her name. I would have said nothing to the first, and demanded a public apology for the second. But you have insulted my children and my heritage. And I will not forgive that."

Aurief stepped back slightly, a little apprehensive at the being that confronted him. He had seen Elrond in most of his guises, had read him skilfully where the Elf Lord remained an unreadable blank to most others. But this... he had never seen this!

But Glorfindel had, as had Erestor and Thranduil and Celeborn and Galadriel. Just so had the Lord of Imladris looked during an incident in the past, when a human had attempted to belittle him for the human blood that flowed in his veins. And that usually meant war.

"Lord Celeborn, I have changed my mind. I object very strenuously to the reclaiming of honour as demanded by the Prince of Mirkwood... I claim that right for myself."

And if that wasn't a declaration of war, the Lord of Lothlorien had never heard one. And he had! What was worse, this was only the first trial!

"You are not well enough," Celeborn soothed, "Let another champion your cause."

"With all due respect, my Lord, I am the best judge of my health, or anyone else's in this State. Give me two days and I will be fit to cut the throat of the elf who has insulted and betrayed me and my family."

Celeborn looked regretful and opened his mouth to say something else when Elrond turned and stared intently at him, daring him with silver-flecked eyes to deny him.

He looked to Glorfindel and Erestor. Neither looked anything but resigned and rather as if they had predicted something of the sort. Even Legolas had nothing to say against it. "Very well," Celeborn sighed, "The Court accepts your demands. In two days you will meet in battle with Aurief; the outcome will decide the case."

He stepped down, offering his hand to his lady, and the both of them swept from the room, drained by their exertions and wondering if it was too late to return to their belovedly peaceful Lothlorien.


	8. 8

Author's Note: It's a fluffy pointless little chapter, but it can't all be trials and kidnappings. There are times in between when they simply relax before riding off to do their respective 'six impossible things', and this is one of them. Probably just after the trial.

* * *

"Glorfindel?"

The seneschal turned towards the small, bewildered voice to see a very ill at ease Prince of Mirkwood staring anxiously at him. For a moment it almost seemed as if the centuries had not passed, and that the young blond was once more afraid for having done something he shouldn't have. But then time shifted back and the young elf was no longer so young, or so afraid of the Lord of Imladris' stern eye.

"Yes?"

"Glorfindel, I... is there no way to stop him?"

Glorfindel considered the options. "No," he said positively, turning to go before he said something he might regret later. A timid hand on his arm stopped him. "Yes?"

"Will he win?"

Again, Glorfindel considered the options. "Perhaps."

"Glorfindel!"

"What would you have me say? No, he is not yet up to full strength, but then he has fought many battles with grievous injuries, as have we all. No, there is no way to stop him because he is as stubborn as you are and has more right to claim insult than you ever did. Come that dawn, Elrond will fight Aurief. And he will not suffer us to question his judgement. May I have my arm back?"

Legolas let go but Glorfindel still felt chained to the spot. He dreaded hearing the next question- "You are angry with me. Why?"

He counted slowly from one to ten in Quenya, then in Sindarin, and finally in dwarvish for good measure before beginning his speech. "You were warned not to persist in this plan of yours to reclaim honour. In those six months that you observed Aurief, you did not ever think that he would scorn you for your chivalric behaviour? And did you not foresee that he would scorn not only you, but your reasons? Think, Legolas- your reason was Elrond, and Aurief has never shown him the least civility. How did you imagine Elrond would simply sit back and not lash out when the chance was presented to him? And you, pen-neth, certainly presented him with the chance!"

Legolas blinked large blue eyes. It seemed so obvious now that Glorfindel pointed it out, but in the weeks before this he hadn't seen this pattern. He'd been so lost to his own feelings that he had forgotten how this might affect those around him. The shimmer of stars in the gathering darkness did nothing to help his misery. Indeed, he felt as if there was lead in his chest for all the joy he had left to him.

Glorfindel sighed, watching worry and fear intermingle and colour those darkening blue eyes. There were times, he thought to himself, when he wondered whether his Lord had been quite sane to even imagine dragging a child so obviously sheltered into a relationship beyond the platonic.

"It is not your fault," he sighed heavily, picking up a stick of driftwood and absently swinging it at a pile of soft snow, "The damage always seems perfectly foreseeable in hindsight. Besides, this way will at least give him a legal avenue to work out his rage; in other circumstances he might have simply strangled him with his bare hands."

Legolas smiled but shivered as well. "He did look rather terrible," he agreed composedly.

"Are we speaking of Ada again?" Elrohir demanding, sneaking up behind the two with his twin, "Are we not done with this topic?"

Glorfindel turned a stern eye on the irrepressible two and frowned his best tutor's glare. All he got from it was a sweet smile of innocence from both Peredhils, smiles that he knew better than to believe.

"We were discussing whether there was not some way in which to stop Elrond reclaiming honour," Legolas explained, "Do you have any suggestions beyond kidnapping him again? It's not that I really mind kidnapping; it's just that all this snow tends to make him cold."

"We could ask him to use Vilya to clear it," Elladan teased.

Elrohir snorted and shook his head. "Just think of how that would sound- "Ada, could you please clear the snow from Imladris so that you won't suffer the cold when we kidnap you?" Yes, gwanur; he would feel most obliged to do as we ask!"

Glorfindel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. He loved these twin elves as if he were their second father, but sometimes they were simply too painful to listen to.

Legolas, however, let out a bark of laughter, a sound that he tempered as Arwen and Aragorn took precious moments from their short time together to join the group, holding hands and looking thoroughly moonstruck. Legolas felt very old as he thought back fondly to doing the same.

True, he had not exactly held hands and his entire relationship extended to four nights and a baby, but still! Legolas was fairly certain that it had been tempestuous, mutual and unutterably romantic... on second thoughts, he began to feel a little bit sheepish. After all, there had been that incident with his tongue and Elrond's fingers...

"Legolas, why are you blushing?"

Five very interested faces turned to look at his burning cheeks, which no amount of pride could chase away. In the end he took to drawing small circles in the snowy ground with the tip of his left shoe. "I was thinking," he murmured cryptically.

"Of a certain dark-haired Elf Lord with grey eyes?" Elladan teased.

Glorfindel bit back a smile as he tutted at the twins with mock disapproval. "Elladan! If Legolas must cheat on Elrond with Erestor, I am certain it need not be shouted out in public!"

"Erestor? Oh Valar, poor Thranduil will murder you most likely!"

"Hush! Ada approaches. Uh, and he is with King Thranduil, Legolas, so please stop looking quite so lovestruck."

"I was not-" was all that the indignant elf had time to say before the two reached hearing distance. "Ada, these elves are insufferable!"

"Naturally," Thranduil murmured, a smile playing somewhere around the corners of his lips, "Have I not always said so?"

Elrond suppressed a sigh and looked at his sons with a disillusioned eye. "What have you said now?" he accused.

"Ada! As if we would..."

"Never in our lives would we ever..."

"Be so disrespectful..."

"So obviously uncouth..."

"To a friend..."

"A person of rank no less..."

"A political ally..."

"The prince of mighty Mirkwood..."

"How can you think..."

"Why would you ever believe..."

"Such lies..."

"Such slander..."

A hand rose and effectively stopped the interweaving exclamations of mock outrage, causing the graceless two to collapse into the snow with muffled laughter. Business-like and very serious, he bent down and collected two handfuls of snow. One he solemnly handed to Arwen and then the two promptly proceeded to throw it at the twins.

Legolas and Thranduil shared a look as much as if to say- "these crazy Noldor!" and Glorfindel only made the strategic move of being out of the way of a potential snowball fight. Luckily for everyone concerned, Elladan and Elrohir declined the challenge and only stood up, brushing the snow from their clothes and stifling giggles. Elrond simply stood and debated whether he was allowed to enjoy the sight of his sons behaving like elflings or whether he should look stern and growl. He settled on smiling with a resigned sigh.

"You never learn," he deplored, before turning to Legolas, "My sons are notoriously bad mannered, Legolas. I assume they said something vaguely annoying?"

"Well..."

"Excellent! Let us put this whole dispute behind us."

Legolas looked mutinous and then reluctantly grinned, noticing the warm look in the grey eyes laughing at him. How, he wondered, had he ever believed that Elrond was only stern until the first time they had kissed? The Elf Lord was anything but, if one learned to read his eyes.

The touch of a hand on his shoulder startled the prince from his self-reflection and he turned a hasty look of innocent enquiry to his father, ignoring the smirks levelled in his direction. Indeed, Aragorn was having a mild coughing fit at his expense.

"Ion nin, please refrain from staring at others," Thranduil said blandly, "And I asked whether you had no qualms about this new turn of events?"

Legolas turned the thought over in his head, remembered Glorfindel's depressing advice and then shook his head.

"Very well then; perhaps we can leave the cold of the winter and retreat to a warmer room in the house? I believe the challenger is in danger of catching cold when out in snow."

Elrond glared at Thranduil, all the while knowing that it would have no effect, and predicted blackly that King Gorrofer had better not try to intercept him anywhere in the next few hours on pain of having his nose bitten off.


	9. 9

Elrond was awake and ready when Glorfindel came for him, testing the edge of his sword with detached bloodthirstiness and a keen eye. It had not seen use for many years now, but he was satisfied with the way it still felt in his hand. Steel grey eyes rose to meet the worried blue ones with every semblance of long-forgotten battle lust.

There was no need for words as the two made their silent way to the designated clearing in the forest. None but a few would be gathered there, for Celeborn had judged that it was wisest to let the dual progress with as little interruption as possible. Elrond had completed the arrangements by clearing the snow from the forested area, suppressing his guilt for the abuse of Vilya's power for another time when he did not have to do battle with an elf that he despised so very much.

Arwen was not in attendance, having been calmly but firmly told to stay away by both her lover and her brothers. Elrond had asked Galadriel to stay with his daughter, to prevent her from needless anxiety. Indeed, he was actually very amused that the only one who seemed to hold any belief in his skill with a sword was himself. For his part, he relished the chance to knock some manners into his opponent's head.

"Are you ready, Elrond?" Celeborn asked quietly, still there in his capacity as judge.

"I am anxious to proceed," was all Elrond said, already focused on the task at hand.

Aurief simply nodded as he took his place in the centre of the clearing, mocking eyes for once serious and his entire demeanour that of a capable warrior on his highest guard. Elrond, by comparison, seemed almost nonchalant, settling lightly on his feet with all the breezy unconcern of a friendly sparring match.

"Begin."

When blade clanged to blade, it was clear why- Elrond's movements were fluid and beautiful to the eyes, his height and litheness perfectly in symmetry with his strength and vision; the whole made for a very formidable swordsman.

However, Elladan was disconcerted to note that Aurief was almost as good if not quite as nice to watch as his Ada. The strokes of his arm were not as clean or as talented, but what he lacked in instinct, he more than made up for in strategy. Elladan shared a worried look with his twin, knowing Elrohir would have seen it too.

Glorfindel was only happy to see that Elrond had at least bandaged the barely healed stomach cut tight, the white of the linen glaringly obvious as he wove through the flurry of attacks and a bare glimpse of his midsection could be seen. The blond leaned against a tree and sighed, prepared to wait it out; reclaiming of honours were usually very long and drawn-out duals unless one of the contestant's skill was just too impressive. For example, if Legolas had been shooting the bow against Aurief, the entire match would have finished with the first arrow. But as Aurief had predictably chosen the sword, Elrond would still have to fight for his victory.

It seemed a most depressing day with rain clouds racing through the sky like wild horses on the move, occasionally allowing the sun to glitter on bare trees for a moment before apologetically hiding away again. The dew and cold clung to the grass with tenuous grimness, as if deliberately trying to make it more dangerous for the fighters.

Aurief raised his sword, feinted and dove his way through Elrond's defences. But he miscalculated and the Elf Lord harmlessly stepped out of the way, a wide grin on his face as the 'Lorien elf steadied his footing and turned messily to face him again. Elrond deliberately provoked him by raising a cool eyebrow, sighing with mock impatience as he waited for his opponent to gather himself.

Aurief's face darkened as he quickly calculated another series of tries. Elrond did not even have the courtesy to hold his sword at the ready, leaving his hand apparently lax and unsettled. But the minute that the guard tried to knock the sword away, strong wrists parried with a double armed blow that sent shudders up through the assaulted weapon through the bone to lodge somewhere in Aurief's shoulder. It was a not-so-subtle warning of Elrond's expertise and Aurief did not appreciate it.

Legolas smiled from the tree he was currently perched in, one leg under him and the other dangling off the branch. He leaned comfortably against the bark and watched with his heart in his mouth. But he had almost whooped with glee when Elrond landed that most humiliating blow to Aurief's ego. So far the Elf Lord had barely even begun to breath faster, seemingly finding the Lothlorien guard's talent over-rated and too predictable.

Aurief was aware of Elrond's complaisance and he knew that he had the disadvantage of physical dexterity. He had simply never been born with the instinct for mindless fighting; but he had been born with an instinct for people! He watched Elrond closely, pressing him into a quick series of moves that kept the half-elf busy if not a little bored, trying to fix on the obvious weaknesses in his armour. There was nothing wrong with his stance or his grip- he was technically as close to perfection as one could hope to see- and his battle sense was finely honed by the best tutors and the most extreme of learning conditions. But there was one weakness- his interest in this battle.

"Well matched, dear one," he laughed, smiling to his opponent's immediately suspicious eyes, "You are truly a master of the sword. Or at least, of several kinds of swords."

"What exactly are you babbling about?"

"Why, I have seen you wield your... other sword, with as much expert knowledge as you wield this kind. Perhaps I chose the wrong weapon to dual with; the other would have been more pleasurable."

Elrond suddenly switched viciously from defence to offence, driving the smug elf back towards the trees. Aurief only just managed to evade a blow intended to slice him diagonally from shoulder to hip and pranced back to the middle.

Dark blue eyes sparkling, Aurief threw back his head and laughed, meeting the blow head on and parrying swiftly as the blows began to lose some of their strict accuracy. "You do not agree?" Aurief panted when they broke apart.

Elrond growled low in his throat at the very thought, feeling white-hot anger hook into his gut, pooling there until he thought he would go mad to slice right through that pretty smile. "It would be... most inconvenient," he called back, speaking as he spun back into the graceful dance, "You would need something... to bolster... your inadequacy."

Aureif scowled and Celeborn choked on his laughter, clapping a hand to his mouth to halt the intrusion of sound. Not that Elladan and Elrohir seemed to mind that; they laughed loudly with relief at their father's retort, hearing Legolas join them from his position on the other side of the clearing.

Aurief looked to the two with a contemptuous sniff. "I should have known not to leave our sons in your hands, Peredhil- they are low as you."

"If they do not take after you, I do not care," Elrond snapped, "And speak to your own crimes before you accuse my children."

"They are mine too," Aurief taunted briskly, "They carry my blood as well."

"Oh, I am healer for many things, Aurief. And I have stopped your infection from spreading to them."

"Tsk tsk tsk... such anger! Such bitterness! What? Your prince does not help you sleep at night?"

Elrond did not bother replying to that. He simply bent to his task and got Aurief locked into a fierce play of thrusts and counter-thrusts, hell-bent of making him eat the words against both his children and now the slander to Legolas. His anger was beginning to boil over and he bottled it tight, waiting like a true veteran for the right moment to unleash it on his foe. Gil-Galad had taught him the trick, telling him that passion was a good part of the armour of a warrior, but only at the right time. Many practise sessions and hard failures had it taken for him to learn the art. But once he had learned... he clasped his lips shut and poured all his concentration into the exact shift of Aurief's limbs, eyes fixed to the ebb and flow of Aurief's presence around him. Falling into a deep trance, he shut out the world around him, fixed only on the glitter of the blue eyes and the bright sword. All the rest faded to insignificance.

Elladan and Elrohir had been told by their father countless times about the need for patience and timing. They were renowned for their sword work as well. But now, as they watched their Ada up the stakes, they knew why Erestor and Glorfindel had joked that it was never a good idea to disturb the dormant passions of the Lord of Imladris.

But one had, and though Legolas had never been on the receiving end of a sword slice that ripped open the skin of his back, he knew what passion looked like on Elrond's face more than his sons did. And the sight of it here in a fairly public clearing made him extremely uncomfortable and heated, knowing that Celeborn's eyes were watching him knowingly from the Lord of Lothlorien's seat on a large tree root. It made him want to hide his face. He wished his Ada were here to see this for Thranduil had a gift with the sword as well, and the son was in sore need of the father's calming influence. But he knew better than to expect his father to care about something like this, especially not when there was an icy steward to be melted and won at the Last Homely House.

The sun began to climb and the dualists were engaging each other less and circling each other more, waiting for their second breathes to revive their flagging energy. Both had suffered minor injuries where Aurief had not whirled away fast enough and Elrond had slipped slightly on a wet patch of grass where his ankle twisted. But those were so irrelevant to the now tangible tension between the two that the aches and pain of battle were only spurs to further strike that deciding blow.

So, swaying on his feet as he surveyed the still entranced half-elf, it was Aurief who first noticed the exotic figure that strolled casually into the clearing and stood watching them. The grin on his face as he looked back to Elrond, snapped the Elf Lord's deep concentration and he tried to ignore the urge to look over his shoulder.

"Your mate has arrived," Aurief said sweetly.

Elrond frowned, not quite understanding.

"King Gorrofer. But he is a handsome man as far as these things go," Aurief breezed, panting as he allowed himself to be deftly repositioned so that Elrond could both fight and glimpse for himself, "I suppose... it is... where Arwen gets it? After all, who else but... a Peredhil... would ever love a human?"

The slur delivered, Aurief suddenly knew he had made a grave mistake. Needling Elrond to impatience was one thing; goading him beyond endurance was an entirely different matter all together. The elf had not only insulted him, but his beloved daughter and human foster son. There would be no mercy for that.

Legolas gasped when he saw those sharp features harden to a mask of the most terrifying hate. Celeborn frowned and straightened and Elladan and Elrohir actually took a step back when they saw someone else stand in the clearing that they had never before met. Glorfindel was privately of the opinion that none of the twins- for all their obsession with fighting orcs- could never hope to rival the violence that Elrond carried inside him. It was the type of cruelty that most of the best warriors carried and Glorfindel knew himself that it was the one thing that every true warrior had in common, no matter who they were or what their beliefs. It belied everything that the scholarly Lord of Imladris ever looked to be, and the icy depths of this were not easily invoked.

Elrond walked back a few steps, rolling his shoulders a little to ease the muscles. He raised the hilt of his sword to his heart as his lips moved in a brief but silent prayer to the Valar. Silver eyes blazed with vengeance and for one of the few times in his life Aurief felt desperation. Then the sword streamed at him with a Quenyan war cry, as the elven legend of an age past broke through his restraints and reminded the Lothlorien guard why the name of Elrond was held in such high regard.

The battle did not last much longer. Aurief was already exhausted and although Legolas had twisted his fingers in nervousness as the dark-haired elf swiftly turned the tables on his adversary, Elrond had not let this bother him, ceding ground and blood with a snarling smile that proved the stinging pain would only fuel his exertions.

By the sun's highest point in the sky, it was over. Aurief lay on the ground and Elrond stood over him, near to exhaustion but still standing, steadily tracing a thin line of red into the elf's throat. Legolas and the twins came forward, knowing that they needed to make him stop the final blow.

But Elrond knew that himself. He was tired, so very tired, and his anger had drained away to mere jadedness. Nothing would come of death; he knew that. The very thought of returning to his home to pick up his innocent elfling with blood-stained hands was revolting, one that refused to let him simply give up and end the fight.

"Ada, leave him be," Elrohir called, "Let him go. He's lost everything anyway."

And in a point of fact Aurief had. He was a citizen of No-Man's Land, exiled from his elven kingdom and lost to honour and respect. He turned his head away from the intense burn of grey eyes. All his life he had been the one of top, staring down into those resigned grey eyes as he'd asserted his dominance. And now he was on the ground too shattered and too weightless to do more than pray for death.

Elrond stepped back, his sword still aimed at his conquest's throat. He wanted... no, needed, one more thing for this to be over. "Apologize," he said quietly, "And I will let you go."

Aurief did not open his eyes. "I have no need of life, half-elf. Kill me now." His fingers twitched as he tightened his fist weakly. "Please!"

"No. You will stand and you will be taken to a room in my house. You will be given a bath, clothes, food and your mount. Then you will apologize to my family and you will be escorted to the borders. And you will live with your crimes and your hatred; you have nothing else left to you."

The sword fell from nerveless fingers and Elrond sank, his faltering strength gone. Legolas managed to steady him but the blond was too slight and Glorfindel luckily took his Lord before both Elrond and Legolas landed in a tangle of limbs. Celeborn ignored the commotion, walking instead to Aurief to help him up.

The Lothlorien elf was in almost as bad a shape, having been sorely tested in the last two hours of their battle when Elrond went straight for his throat. He was bitterly certain that he could not even feel his sword arm any more, and that the deepish gash in his side was going to get infected due to his roll on the grass. He kept his eyes fixed firmly to the ground, not even bothered to show respect to Celeborn as the Elf Lord helped him from the clearing.

Gorrofer smirked gently to himself, eyes shining as he remembered the way that the lithe body had swept through air and space, seasoned muscles bunching and pulling with well-oiled precision. And the precision had been deadly and dangerous. Gorrofer wistfully longed to pit Elrond against one of his own personal bodyguards in a fight to the death, just to see more of that magnificent ruthlessness. The Elf Lord fought like an assassin!

And therein lay the problem. The man sighed, making his way back with characteristic languor, already discarding his mating slave in his mind; it would be sheer bad taste to keep an elf like that on a chain.


	10. 10

Now that Aurief had been sorted out and he had had a very pleasant two day sleep, Elrond felt rested enough to tackle his next problem.

"King Thranduil," Elrond called, smoothly coming up behind the elf and smiling as the blond gave a sharp start at being so disturbed. It might be an elfling's trick, but Elrond only just resisted the urge to laugh at Thranduil's annoyed look. "I would like a word with you."

Thranduil looked suspicious but agreed composedly, following the quick tread to Elrond's study, taking a seat as the half-elf shut and locked the door. A blond brow rose at the sight and at the small smile that the Lord of Imladris then proceeded to level at him.

"Your Majesty, I'm not sure if you are aware, but Lord Erestor has been very distracted as of late," Elrond began, walking to his desk and picking up a sheet of parchment, "This is a letter to the Steward of Gondor proposing a possible exchange of information concerning the activities of orcs and other creatures of darkness that dwell so close to Mordor. No, do not look so bored; the letter itself is fine. Or it would be, if Erestor would refrain from asking courteously after the health of the Steward's long dead wife and if he had not suggested- and I quote- 'a mutual well-spring of desire' between Gondor and Imladris."

To his credit, Thranduil did not laugh. He smiled, bit his lip, and felt his eyes water with the effort, but he did not laugh. "A- a mutual well-spring of desire?"

"It was meant to be 'a mutual sharing of awareness', but I believe his mind may have wandered. Do you, perhaps, know what is pulling his mind from his work?"

Suddenly the King of Mirkwood realized what his son meant when he said that the Lord of Imladris laughed with his eyes. The grey eyes turned to him were glittering with humour, steadily surveying him as if perfectly content to share the joke with everyone or no one as the case may be. "I have no knowledge of the thoughts of another," came the evasive answer.

Elrond perched on the edge of his desk and settled comfortably. "I would not expect you to," he agreed tranquilly, "But I have observed a blossoming friendship between the two of you. Naturally I wondered if he might have confided in you? I ask out of concern, you understand; we are old friends and I would not like to see him troubled."

"My Lord, if you have such grave concerns for his well-being, why come to me? Why not ask him?" Thranduil suggested maliciously. He knew why Elrond would not ask Erestor, but he was damned if the Peredhil was going to lecture him on conduct as if he were a provincial idiot.

A dark brow quirked charmingly. "And you believe he will talk to me before he is ready?" Elrond sighed, "Then you are simply being optimistic about Erestor's secrecy. He does not, you see, like being interfered with."

"I'm afraid I do not see."

Elrond nodded quickly and stood, walking to a chair to sit like a civilized elf in civilized company. "Erestor is a very secretive elf. He will not dissuade me from asking him a personal question, but he is exceedingly good at giving or withholding vital information. Normally he would talk with me if he were troubled- I believe he knows that- but there might be an instance in which he feels some... embarrassment or reluctance. Or, knowing Erestor, he is probably trying to hide from the issue and has put it so far out of his head that he does not even realize he is troubled."

That, the king had to agree, sounded very much like Erestor. "He does tend to be reserved, does he not?"

"He does," Elrond remarked fervently, "Getting him to speak his mind on personal matters is like trying to pull a diseased tooth- very painful and very hard! He simply ignores them, and so does not always realize that he is less happy than he ought to be. No," Elrond continued, looking with innocence to his hands, "what he requires is someone in his life who will not let him do that."

Thranduil's lips twitched, intrigued and amused by this conversation with the Elf Lord. He had no love for him- and would not have minded him disappearing for all time- but the half elf did at least have a sense of humour. And what was more: Elrond seemed to be giving him his blessing to pursue his Chief Adviser. Not that the blessing was needed; Thranduil had eagerly done so since his arrival. "Lord Elrond, what is the point of all this?"

"Are we speaking plainly?" Elrond queried.

"Well, your vague hints are not quite helpful. Plain speaking would be preferable."

Elrond smirked gently and inclined his head in meek agreement. "My apologies; I was deceived about your stance on the way a conversation must be had. I suppose it comes from all those political talks where I could swear I was coerced with double-meaning words into an agreement I would not normally have entertained." He did not let Thranduil so much as splutter before pressing on. "But that is not important. Your majesty, you have been very blatantly interested in Erestor for the three weeks of your arrival. It pains me to ask, but do you intend to bed him, or share a relationship with him?"

"I hardly think either option will involve you," Thranduil said archly.

"It will not, if I have a guarantee that Erestor's wits are not addled in the process. However, as you can see from the letter to Gondor, I do not. Whatever you do plan, let me ask you to be extremely careful of his emotions. He seems very capable and cold, but that is not a reflection of his true nature. In truth, he has the emotional stability of Legolas."

"Are you implying that my son is emotionally unstable?"

"He confesses to loving me," Elrond responded tartly, "Do not pretend you think that a particularly good choice on his part."

"I have never said it was," Thranduil agreed, which of course rubbed Elrond quite the wrong way. "I must admit I've even tried to talk him out of it."

"Thank you. I knew I could count on your support."

"We are indulging in plain speaking."

"Are we? It sounds more like war with words instead of swords."

"The weaponry can be arranged."

"I have just fought a dual two days ago! I do not intend to fight another for at least a week more! Though I might change my mind if you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head."

"Do you accuse me of incivility? You who presume to meddle in my affairs on no purpose except idle curiosity?"

The two were shouting by then, standing almost nose to nose, and neither of them heard the handle of the door rattle. They certainly did not hear the loud knock, so engrossed where they in their argument.

"I seek to protect a friend."

"You seek to interest yourself in things that are none of your concern."

"They are of my concern when the person involved is my Chief Adviser, who is currently making mistakes that might result in someone declaring war on my kingdom because he cannot think straight."

"Oh, you need never bother with that- you can manage to start a war all by yourself. You Noldor always were uncouth."

"The Noldor, you say? You who cannot even form a battle plan that does not involve the deaths of hundreds?"

"That is irrelevant and an indecent assault on my family."

"It was meant to be!"

At which they both stared at each other, blushed and sat down. Elrond cleared his slightly hoarse throat and tried to think of a way to apologize without causing offence. Oh no, he definitely would want to start worrying about causing offence now that the damage had been done!

A loud bang sounded and the door flew open, smashed in by the shoulders of a Balrog Slayer and a Ranger, both of whom followed the door and stared wildly around for the dead bodies. All they got, though, were two Elven rulers who looked coldly and enquiringly at them and sat perfectly calm and collected in their chairs.

"We, uh, heard shouting," Aragorn excused, backing towards the door under the look his foster father directed his way.

"It was a small matter of contention," Thranduil said stiffly.

"Contention?" Glorfindel was not so easily put off as Aragorn and neither Elrond's nor Thranduil's death glares were enough to frighten someone who had literally fried to his death. "It sounded more like an army of squabbling orclings were invading Imladris. In fact, I think Erestor has already gone to sound the alarm."

"In that case, I shall go and stop him," Thranduil snapped, frigidly getting to his feet and sweeping out. Aragorn held the door open for him and examined the broken lock while he was at it.

"My Lord," he asked tentatively, "Is everything all right?"

Elrond looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "Pardon? Oh! Yes. Everything is fine. Ah, I would appreciate it if no one told Legolas about this little incident? It is bad enough that he knows his father does not like me without knowing that we are in the habit of shouting at each other."

"Yes, shouting is a bad habit of yours," Glorfindel murmured serenely, sitting down in Thranduil's place, "Of course, if you will stop pouting at me I would further add that Thranduil does much to provoke you."

"Thank you, mellon nin. Wherever would I be without your unconditional support," Elrond remarked, "Now if the both of you are quite finished trying to break my house down, I would appreciate being able to get my work done in peace. Do not worry about the door now; I'll take care of it. I'm sure you both have much work to do. Oh, and Glorfindel? Please check on Bronwe and ask Legolas if he can bring her to me this afternoon? I have not seen her all day! Yes, Estel, go do whatever you think is best too..."

Without quite knowing how, Aragorn and Glorfindel found themselves propelled through the door and the abused mechanism swung closed behind them, effectively cutting them off from the study and the half-elf muttering soothing platitudes before ejecting them forcibly. They stood there for a few minutes, contemplating the many peculiarities of life.

"So," Aragorn finally sighed, quite prepared to make the most of an aimless afternoon, "Do you think he'll forgive us for breaking down his door?"


	11. 11

Author's Note: This is the last chapter for this part. I, uh, have a confession to make- I've already thought up another sequal!! Don't hate me please!!! If you think I shouldn't post it- or continue- just say so. But I was intrigued at knowing what it would be like about fifty years down the line when the Fellowship is formed.

* * *

"Elrond, I should lay very hard and very violent hands on you," Erestor burst out, stalking into the study with his loose hair wet and a remarkable absence of books or papers in his hands. 

The Lord of Imladris looked up in surprise and absolutely no fear as the steward stood glowering down at him. Bronwe too only yawned and settled back to sleep. It was fairly late in the morning and since Erestor had missed breakfast, Elrond had simply assumed him to be working. Not that he had needed him; Legolas had gone hunting with the twins and Aragorn, leaving Bronwe in his hands. He had simply been too busy to do anything that might upset his old friend and faithful right hand.

"Do not hide behind an innocent elfling," Erestor hissed.

"Actually, I was putting her to sleep. If you can contain your anger for a few more seconds, she should leave us in peace to talk," Elrond suggested humbly. Not that it fooled anyone; Erestor knew better than to trust such cooperation when that sparkle lit the grey eyes. And with good reason, for the Elf Lord had just remembered one very good reason why Erestor should be furious.

When he had kept his frined stewing for as long as he dared, Elrond finally laid her down on the little couch and banked her in with pillows before turning to indicate his willingness to listen with an expressive blink.

"Oh, no," Erestor exploded quietly, "No! Do not look so innocent, Peredhil! I know very well your part in all this- this mess."

Elrond looked from the finger in his face to the elf to whom it belonged. Leaning forward with the most solemn of expressions, he bit it, smiling in satisfaction when it was hastily withdrawn with a muffled yelp. "An interesting trick I learned from my daughter," he sighed, looking smugly satisfied as Erestor sulked at him. "I take it that you blame me for something. Very well, then- tell me all about it."

"You whored me out," Erestor accused.

"Saes! My daughter is in the room," Elrond said in mock severity. He ducked as a book flew at him. Luckily it made no sound for it went out the window to land messily in the garden.

"I could kill you!"

"I have no doubt you could, mellon nin. But tell me why I am deserving of such wrath."

"As I said, you..." Elrond raised a severe eyebrow, "... King Thranduil told me about his conversation with you two days ago. And about the comment of yours yesterday? You know, the innocent little remark that a relationship between Mirkwood and Imladris would be a welcome relief? I thought you meant yourself and Legolas, but now- NOW- do I realize your deceit and your evil intent and your..."

"Interference?"

"That too! How dared you place me in such a position?"

Elrond thought for a moment, contemplating his friend with knowing eyes. There was a brighter glow to Erestor this morning, and since he was running around Imladris so very late when he was usually such an early riser... "Was I wrong to do so?"

"You mean aside from being improper, inquisitive, sneaking and cold-bloodedly ruthless? Yes!"

"Oh." Elrond pushed a few papers around his desk and digested that. He was genuinely sorry that he had interfered in what was not his business but he had hoped that Erestor would at least enjoy the flattering attention if not find happiness. His steward was so reserved and had been so lonely for so many centuries.

And was currently still staring venomously at him with very real frustration in his eyes. "You are as infuriating as a maternal elf-maid with six daughters and a love for gossip!"

Now that was too much! Elrond drew himself up to his full height and let his grey eyes flash fire. "I would cease the insults," he warned.

"No! You started this, now you can well listen to what I have to say. And if you don't like that then you should have thought of that before you meddled in my affairs. And no, don't smirk, and yes, it is now an affair! And it is all your fault!"

"Erestor, that is good news indeed," Elrond congratulated, embracing the stiff body warmly, "I am very happy for you, mellon nin."

"Well, the feeling is not mutual."

"You mean you aren't happy for me?" Elrond asked, feigning hurt. He chuckled for ages as is friend's ramrod straight back stomped away in a very un-elf-like manner out the door.

He was still giggling every few seconds when Glorfindel popped his head around the door and asked interestedly why Erestor was making the kitchen staff's lives a misery while muttering darkly about half-elves. At this news, Elrond broke into full-fledged laughter that woke Bronwe up. She started crying and continued for the next fifteen minutes until her Ada apologized for being so inconsiderate of her needs. Then, and only then, did she sniff and wave her hand over his cheek in forgiveness.

Elrond murmured appropriately soothing sounds and turned her over to Glorfindel to play with. "Our beloved Erestor is upset with me," he answered ruefully, "I am afraid I was acting very immature when he tried to talk to me."

"You would not listen?"

"No," Elrond sighed wryly, "I laughed."

Glorfindel grinned and tickled Bronwe under her pointed little chin. "You really have made a mess. I assume you interfered in his burgeoning relationship with Thranduil?"

Elrond leaned in close to gently caress the tip of one of his daughter's little ears to help her sleep and looked surprised at Glorfindel's guess. "How did you know?"

Bronwe cooed in pleasure and shut her eyes.

Glorfindel shrugged and handed the child back to his Lord. "It is not secret that King Thranduil is enamoured of Erestor's, uh..."

"My daughter," Elrond whispered warningly, clutching her tight as if she could hear and be corrupted.

"Many charms," Glorfindel settled obligingly, "It is the talk of all Imladris. Even Celeborn commented on it yesterday."

"He did, did he? I wonder what Galadriel's opinion is," the half-elf murmured, "If she approves of the relationship, then it must be helped."

The blond there present looked dubious as Bronwe was put back down and Elrond went back to work. He did not have to wait long by the door with the broken lock before Elrond noticed that the talk had not ended as far as his seneschal was concerned. The Lord of Imladris found himself and his daughter forcibly removed from the study. Bronwe was handed over to a very willing Arwen and then Glorfindel took his friend off to the Elf Lord's private gardens.

He walked slowly in deference to the still easily fatigued body, but gripped Elrond's arm as if to prevent him escaping. Finally the silence got on the Peredhil's nerves and he pulled away, demanding to know what was wrong. 

"You will not interfere with Erestor's love life," Glorfindel stated categorically, "Indeed, I will forbid it."

And that was quite the wrong attitude to adopt for the Lord of Imladris. "Really? How is that?"

"Elrond, I have enjoyed and indulged all your mad humours through the centuries. As a point of fact, I actually prefer you teasing the people around you than looking as stern as you normally do. But this... mellon nin, you cannot play with people's lives."

"First," Elrond rasped, clasping his hands in front so that he was not tempted to hit someone who could likely break his neck fairly easily, "I do not play with Erestor's life. Yes, I am 'meddling in his affairs' as he called it, but I know him better than he knows himself; he will not take this chance even if he were in love with Thranduil. And second, if you call my attempts to help as 'playing with people's lives', then what exactly do you call my impact on the lives of everyone who lives and visits Imladris?"

Glorfindel sighed. He did not want to insult Elrond, but the half-elf's new lease on life was making him disturbingly giddy. No one grudged him his happiness, but the Balrog Slayer also suspected that Elrond so intent on this relationship because of his own unsolved conflict with Legolas. And that would be dangerous for all concerned.

"Elrond, why are you insisting on Erestor becoming Thranduil's lover?"

"He needs this, Glorfindel. You know as well as I do how lonely he is. And he will not have the sense to do this on his own! He needs help."

"Elrond, I do not believe you," Glorfindel snapped, "Do not lie to me for I won't stand for it!"

The Elf Lord found himself grasped by the arms and shaken before he could blink. "I do not lie," he managed to protest hotly, breaking the hold and pushing his friend away.

"Yes, you do. And you lie to yourself. This has nothing to do with Erestor. It has to do even with Thranduil."

"King Thranduil of Mirkwood?" Elrond looked amused, but his words soundd strined even to his own ears.

"You want to see the King settled and happy."

"I could not care less. There is no friendship between us now and whatever shallow form of regard there once was has since vanished."

"Then why do you foist him on Erestor?"

Elrond opened his mouth and then closed it again. There was nothing he could say to that. There was no proper way to explain. "He is not a bad elf," he finally groaned, "He has also been unhappy. Why should not two lonely elves find comfort with each other?"

"You are lonely too, mellon nin," Glorfindel pointed out just as quietly, "Why do you not take a lover?"

"I have..."

"Taken a lover?"

"No," the Elf Lord acknowledged dryly, "But then I have a child... children. It is complicated."

"Legolas has not spoken?"

The dark head snapped up so fast that Glorfindel hoped his Lord had not given himself a crick in the neck. The dark brows were pulled down in a frown but Glorfindel clearly saw fear in the grey eyes.

"Legolas has nothing to do with this."

"You bore his child."

"That means nothing," the Lord of Imladris spat, "We met for a few nights of shared pleasures. Circumstances and human greed contrived to give us a daughter."

"I thought your daughter was popularly considered to be a gift from the Valar."

"She is! Oh, you are deliberately being obtuse. There is nothing between Legolas and I. There is nothing for us except Bronwe."

"Now you are openly lying to yourself," Glorfindel told him, "The very fact that you deny everything so vehemently tells me that you are hiding something."

Elrond turned away, reaching blindly to a tree just for something to do. He scratched at the rough bark and felt the trees whisper to him. He nodded, not understanding it very clearly, and too occupied to answer.

Glorfindel knew the unspoken dismissal. As a friend he would not stay where he was not wanted. He wished that he hadn't had to re-open fresh sores, but Erestor was a friend too and he would not see one hurt because the other was labouring under a conveniently blinkered view of his position.

That evening Elrond excused himself from the meal and retired early to his bedchamber. Legolas stared after him with worry in his eyes, but Glorfindel prevented him from following, knowing that Elrond felt it enough without the archer as more salt in the wound.

"He will be all right in a few days," the seneschal soothed, "Give him time to rest and regain his strength."

Legolas reluctantly took his seat again. "I suppose he is still tired from the duel," he muttered, "I should go to... no, he will be fine. Where is Bronwe?"

"The nurse has her," Erestor answered, "Elrond asked that she be brought to you this night if it is needed."

Legolas nodded and fell into a brown study, trying to steel himself for the task of sleeping next door with only a wall preventing him from reaching his hand to someone he cared so deeply for.

Glorfindel cleared his throat and watched Erestor blush. He also noticed Thranduil's hand beneath the tale and he recognized that blank look of innocence on the King's face; many times had he seen Legolas wear that same look when doing something he knew he shouldn't. "Erestor," he called loudly, "Will you accept a challenge to a game of chess this night?"

He was not particularly desiring the game but if his friend wanted a way out of the situation...

"Thank you, Glorfindel, but no. I have some- some work to do this evening. I will be retiring to my rooms directly after dinner."

Glorfindel shrugged and challenged Elladan.

Darkness descended quietly that night, and peace reigned once more.


End file.
